


Spring Rain

by clarkesbell



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Denial of Feelings, Drinking & Smoking, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, If You're Looking for Smut this isn't for You, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Mutual Pining, Rated Mature for Violence and Sensitive Matters, Romance, Slow Burn, Step-Sibling Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 153,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25000552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkesbell/pseuds/clarkesbell
Summary: They both knew college wouldn't be easy.But when they end up in a fake relationship, suddenly papers and exams aren't the hardest things to deal with when they're forced to face and question their own feelings.
Relationships: Casey McDonald/Derek Venturi
Comments: 335
Kudos: 191





	1. Of Bottles and Constellations

**Author's Note:**

> We meet again ❤️  
> I can't stop writing about these two, send help! (And welcome aboard, I hope you enjoy the ride!)
> 
> First of all, let me thank you for starting this story, you're awesome! But just a few things before we jump in:  
> 1\. Yes, this is another fake dating fic with lots of cliches, so if you don't like it, I advise you to skip this one!  
> 2\. It also has a lot of fluff, so it that's not your cup of tea either, I'm so sorry.  
> 3\. It's rated Mature for sensitive content (there will be no graphic descriptions, but I will be adding trigger warnings before every chapter).  
> 4\. There won't be smut.  
> 5\. You could ignore all those observations and give it a chance, though :)  
> 6\. English is not my native language, so expect typos and mistakes (and correct me if you will, I'll appreciate that!)
> 
> I'm done now. If you're still here, THANK YOU and I hope you enjoy it ❤️

_"It creeps in slowly, stings like poison through my veins_

_So many questions, so many glances unexplained_

_‘Cause you are the blood that I bleed_

_We've got the whole world under our feet_

_But when you're tired and you're falling asleep, I don't wanna let go."_

_(Let Go - Dean Lewis)_

Casey

She didn’t hate parties.

Of course, she wasn’t the typical teenager recklessly ramming the door that leads into adulthood by filling up her veins with liters of beer and her lungs with smoke; she was the one stepping carefully into the fields of maturity who would much rather choose a night-in curled up under her blankets with a good book over anything else on any day. But she knew she could enjoy random conversation with strangers and dance and maybe try a little bit of beer—she hadn’t done that yet, despite Derek’s attempts to corrupt her. It smelled terrible.

Yet, she hadn’t been to any parties ever since she left London. 

Maybe it had to do with the seething resentment that came with the memories that flitted through her mind whenever she thought about what happened at the last party she went to. 

Casey didn’t think about Truman regularly enough to affirm that what he had done to her still hurt, but she didn’t hoard the memories with pleasantness either. Derek blamed it on her ‘lack of capacity to have fun’, but he never gave up on trying to get her out of her dorm and enjoy the whole ‘college experience’.

She wasn’t sure when they became close; when she thought about it, she would always picture a map with the path they had been taking so far, but there was no starting point and the only answer that came to mind was ‘it just kind of happened’. 

Sometimes she was able to forget about their past of animosity and rivalry, but when he spent the entire week trying to convince her to go to Steve Banik’s party, she was taken back to one year ago. Casey tried to refuse it vehemently, but this time he was adamant about pestering her until she agreed to it and she really needed to go to her class because Professor Louis didn’t spare scornful looks at students who were late, so she gave in. 

And it led her to that Friday night, staring at her reflection in the mirror, holding a baby blue dress with sleeves in front of her body and balancing her phone between her shoulder and her cheek.

“What do you even wear to a college party?” she asked, scrunching up her nose at the dress and putting it back on the hanger. It was slightly chilly outside for the flimsy fabric. 

“I still vote for the jeans and the hot black top,” Emily said. 

Casey studied the pair of jeans she had placed on her bed with an approving look. “Yeah, it’s warm enough.”

“And hot.”

Casey chuckled, grabbing her phone to hold it properly against her ear. They had been discussing outfits for at least an hour and she still didn’t know why something as futile as clothing held such importance to her, but it might have been the pressure of saying yes to a plan she wasn’t eager to follow.

"Okay, now _please_ tell me how Derek got to convince you to go," Emily pleaded in a dramatic tone. 

"I'm asking myself the same thing. I'm actually thinking about not going at all."

"Yeah, you're not doing that,” she stated with determination. It almost made Casey snort. “You're going to have the entire college experience today and you're going to love it, okay? Promise me, Casey."

Casey smiled. "I didn't know that was so important to you."

" _I_ was supposed to be the one integrating you into college society. But I'm glad Derek is doing the job. Though it took him almost a year. He’s losing his touch," she added with a dose of judgment.

"No, Derek just doesn’t have any influence on me."

Emily let out a sardonic laugh that immediately irritated Casey; she wasn’t easily influenced, let alone by Derek. Sure, he often convinced her to make unnecessary breaks during their study sessions to play video games or watch hockey and he was particularly good at tricking her into doing what he wanted by challenging her—she couldn’t walk away from a challenge, okay?—but that was as far as it went.

“Don’t give me that laugh!”

Someone knocked at the door and she sighed, already preparing herself and regretting the turn the night was about to take as she opened the door and beckoned Derek in. 

"Speak of the devil," she quipped.

Derek’s eyes glimmered with the narcissistic idea of being the subject of her conversation and he snickered. "Who's talking about me?"

"Emily."

He brought his ear to the back of her phone and Casey swatted at his arm, which didn’t make him move a single centimeter. The scent of his body spray instantly invaded her nostrils and she tried to move as subtly as she could. 

"Hey, Emily. Care to hang up so your friend can do something useful with her life?"

"I'll allow it, only because I agree," Emily said, evidently appeased by the situation.

Casey rolled her eyes. "Wow, I feel so thrilled to go now," she grumbled. "Talk to Derek, I'll go change."

She handed the phone to Derek, who accepted it enthusiastically and flopped down onto her bed, making himself comfortable. His legs stretched over the pair of pants she had chosen to wear that night. She glowered at his petulance, but he simply gestured for her to hurry up with a sway of his hand.

Casey pulled the pants from under him with a resigned sigh and grabbed the rest of the clothes, ignoring his smirk, and leaving the dorm to change and apply some makeup in the bathroom. She was back in a few minutes to find Derek laughing on the phone, which made her wonder what he and Emily could be talking about. They were exes. Which didn’t mean anything, since she still talked to Sam.

She didn’t talk to Truman, though.

Casey sighed. That night was making her remember him more than she wanted to. 

She focused on looking for her denim jacket in her tiny closet. It took her a few seconds to find it hidden behind Ivy’s sweater—her roommate didn’t care about keeping her clothes in her own space regardless of how many times Casey had tried to address the issue—and realize Derek had stopped talking. 

She looked over at him and noticed he still had her phone to his ear, only his attention was fully on her. But it lasted a meager millisecond, which wasn’t enough for her to read his expression, and he resumed his conversation, sitting up.

“Well, I have to go,” he said, “I’ll let you know if I have to drag Casey’s drunk body all the way to her dorm. Or if I find her passed out in an alley.”

Casey snagged the phone from his hand before he could begin to form another sentence and he stared at her in fake incredulity as she terminated the call.

“Rude.”

He stood up, sidling up to her with his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. She ignored the twinge of uneasiness that overwhelmed her, a feeling that seemed to make a guest appearance every time they were alone. She told herself it was just the natural awkwardness of considering him her friend after so many years of disagreements, but the feeling was older and more familiar than she made it be.

"Let's go?" she urged, going for the door without another look at him. 

Thankfully, he didn't seem to pick up on her behavior and let her introduce a new topic as he drove to Steve's apartment. It was only a couple of minutes away from campus and, when they made their way into the place, Casey decided it would be more appropriate to call it a smaller version of a mansion. 

The place was bigger than it needed to be for a single college student, decorated with modern furniture and expensive-looking objects that had callously been taken out of place or dropped to the floor by drunk and stoned teenagers. She quickly scammed the room, from the people playing beer pong to the ones making out and smoking weed. There was music in the background, mixing with the noise of parallel conversation. 

Derek draped one arm around her shoulders when she stopped by the door. "You have to actually enter," he mocked, gently pushing her forward. 

"Yeah, I don't think I'm going to like this," she contorted, resisting his insistence.

"You know how you keep telling me to try healthy food at least four times before I decide I don't like it?"

"And you never do it anyway?"

"Besides the point. You have to try it first."

She sighed, knowing he was right. She hadn't even tried it. And she had a feeling that Truman was still subconsciously serving as a hurdle, stopping her from enjoying that moment. 

"Come on," Derek said a little gentler, pushing her towards a group of people near the window. 

She could see their curious eyes roaming over her before they even reached the coffee table around which they were all sitting on the floor. She recognized three faces amongst the group and smiled at them, slightly relieved that she knew someone else besides Derek there.

"Hey, stranger," Pete greeted with a wink. He was a very good friend of Derek's, as well as his teammate. Casey had met him on her first hockey game and they had instantly connected. 

"Hi, Pete." 

Will, who was sitting next to Pete, raised his beer at her with a lopsided smile. She had also met him at one of those games, only he was cheering from the stands, screaming Pete's name. They weren't dating, but she didn't know why when both were clearly not against the idea. 

"It’s been a long time, we’ve been missing your pretty face," Will told Derek as the group of people made space for them to sit down. 

“Who’s that?” the boy sitting next to Casey asked, looking at her with brazen interest. 

She felt her cheeks flushing, but when she stared at him to introduce herself, something pricked at her heart. The boy was very handsome; his hair was brown and his eyes were deep black, marred with a bit of malice and playfulness that, combined with his careless grin, reminded her of the one she was trying to erase from her memory. 

She couldn't spend an eternity comparing every boy who hit on her to Truman. But it was inevitable. 

"Fuck off, Walsh," Derek snarled. 

She eyed Derek with a frown and he rolled his eyes impatiently. 

"I'm Casey," she said, smiling at everyone with as much naturality as she could manage. 

“If you came to any of our games, you’d know that,” Harry, another one of Derek’s teammates, mentioned. “Casey used to be a regular.”

“Poor thing,” the blond girl sitting next to Walsh said. “Having to watch hormonal primitive men beat each other on the ice. Beer?”

Casey shook her head. “I don’t drink.”

“ _What_?” The question was said in unison by at least four of them, as if she had just said she had robbed a bank and shot a child on the way to the party. 

"Just get her some water, Stephanie," Derek said. 

"That's not fun."

"So," another girl began as Stephanie handed Casey a bottle of cold water, "how come we never met _Casey_ before?" 

The almost hostile way in which she said her name made Casey follow her gaze, which was fixated solely on Derek. He was squinting his eyes at the girl, clearly irked by her behavior. She would bet her few possessions that they had gotten together at some point in the past year. 

“Speak for yourself,” Will countered with a cocked eyebrow that emphasized his aversion to the girl, “Derek and Casey are a pretty known duo amongst the guys.”

“You say it like _you’re_ a part of the guys,” Harry chortled, sipping on his beer. 

“I’m very _familiar_ with a few parts of those guys,” Will replied with a devilish smile that immediately provoked quick denials from both Derek and Harry, and elicited laughs from everyone in the group. Except for the girl who defied Derek, who now had her eyes set on Casey. 

"Sorry, hun. I don’t go to hockey games,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly. However, there was nothing casual about it; she was undoubtedly bothered by her presence and it was more than obvious that it was due to jealousy. “I've seen you walking around campus with Derek, of course. But he just never mentioned you. Maybe it wasn’t that important." She finished with a fake smile, wrapping a strand of her perfectly straight blond hair around her index finger.

"Stop being a bitch, Julie," Stephanie chided.

"Yeah,” Derek agreed, “I mean, it's not like we're friends or anything. I don't have to mention things to you."

" _Burn_ ," Will cackled. 

"Fuck you, Will," Julie snapped back.

"The hospitality here sucks," the boy whom Derek referred to as Walsh before interfered with a smile. "I'm Tom. You've met Julie, Steph, Harry, Peter and Will. The grumpy one is Marshall,” he pointed at a heavy-built boy who looked a little older than them, “and next to him is Peyton," he concluded, gesturing for the only girl who was taking a swig of an energy drink. 

"Great, now that we're all acquainted, can we get on with the game already?" Marshall urged, drumming his large fingers on the coffee table. "I'm giving up here."

"Are you really playing with us?" Stephanie asked, amused by the fact.

"This is the only way for Marshall to get to kiss who he wants," Julie teased, looking pointedly at Peyton, who was oblivious to the entire conversation. Casey noticed that Marshall’s cheeks began to gain color. It was weirdly adorable to see the giant man blushing.

"We're playing spin the bottle again?" Derek asked.

Casey stiffened unwittingly in her place, glancing at Derek for a brief moment. He was looking at Stephanie, who, for what she could gather so far, was the voice of reason in the group. 

“ _Again_?” Julie rolled her eyes, playing with her hair. Whether it was a tick or a tactic to seduce someone, Casey didn’t know. But she bet on the latter. “It’s not like you _ever_ play.”

“Why _is_ that?” Will touched Derek’s arm, scrunching his eyebrows together as if he had never thought about the subject before. “Why don’t you ever play? Are you like a perv who likes to watch other people getting it on?”

“Oh, my God, William,” Peyton finally spoke up, staring at him wide-eyed. 

“It _is_ a little childish,” Derek shrugged.

"I second it," Stephanie agreed. "I mean, we can just go back to grade five and play seven minutes in heaven. 

“I think it’s cool,” Pete said.

"Who wants to play?” Tom asked, stretching behind Julie to grab an empty bottle on the floor. 

Will raised his hand. “I'm down to kiss some guys. And girls, if it unfortunately comes to that. No offense, though."

“I will kiss any guy who isn’t Will, just putting it out there,” Harry said.

Tom and Julie snorted while the rest began to discuss whether it was fair to choose who they would kiss or not. Will even tried to coax them into taking off pieces of clothes every round, but Stephanie quickly shut him down. Casey felt her heart starting to speed up gradually, resulting in her hands getting damp and shaky with the anticipation and the shame.

She noticed Derek watching her carefully, but chose to focus her own eyes on the bottle that Tom was now placing at the center of the table. She wondered if he was waiting for her to back out. He wouldn’t agree to this game if she stayed. _Right?_

She did a quick, almost desperate mental addition. The chances of that bottle landing on her were 1 in 9, but those were still valid odds. Was he really willing to kiss her if it came to this? Was she willing to kiss him if it came to this? 

Among the jumble of thoughts that managed to swarm around her mind during those few seconds, she was contemplating whether it would even be acceptable to kiss Derek, in spite of it being only for a game. The thought was enough to make her heart beat even faster.

“This is Casey’s first time, she should start,” Tom suggested.

She swallowed, shaking her head frantically. "Oh... no, I’m not playing."

"Oh, come on, you gotta play," he insisted. “You’re the new addition to the group.”

"And what better way to get to know a person than sticking your tongue down their throats, right?" Will mocked, enticing sounds of both disgust and amusement from the others.

She let out a nervous laugh. "I’m good."

“Unless you’re a prude,” Julie guessed, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Which I wouldn’t put past you.”

“Julie,” Derek censored her.

“I’m not a prude, I just don’t want to play,” Casey replied, her voice more bitter than usual. 

"Just once," Tom tried. 

"Quick question for Walsh," Derek began, sarcastically, “do you know the concept of ‘no’?” 

Tom cast a sardonic look his way, plastering a grin on his lips. "Yes, I do. That's fine. I can just go for it the old way." 

Casey shifted uncomfortably in her place, both for being caught in the middle of a clear case of belligerence that was mutual between the boys and for the unexpected interest Tom exhibited towards her. 

"Can you two please keep it civil?" Stephanie asked with a sigh that suggested she was more than used to this kind of exchange regarding the boys. 

"I'm bored," Julie whined. 

“Okay, I’ll lay down some basic rules,” Stephanie began. 

Tom scooted closer to her to whisper in her ear before she could stop him. "I wouldn't take you for someone who does open relationships."

“What?”

“Are you okay with your boyfriend playing this?”

She frowned, turning her head just enough to look at him. "My... boyfriend?"

"Venturi."

Casey gasped quietly. "He's not my boyfriend."

Tom glanced at Derek above her shoulders with a skeptical look and offered her a cunning smile. "Does he know that?"

Casey moved away from him so abruptly that she bumped her shoulder into Derek’s. He stared at her with an inquisitive look and she shook her head, mouthing an apology before centering her attention around what was happening. 

"Derek never plays, let him go first," Julie said, beaming at him. 

“Or I could go first,” Pete countered, reaching for the bottle. 

She noticed he and Derek exchanging a look before he spun the object, which landed on Peyton. The air was instantly charged with an awkward tension as they all watched Marshall’s reaction to another man kissing the girl he liked. Despite the evident uneasiness, he seemed relatively resigned. Pete gave Peyton a quick peck on the lips, out of respect for his friend, but Julie didn’t waste time before complaining.

“Oh, come on, if you’re not going to do it right, at least let it last longer.” 

Casey was a great advocate for second chances and first impressions not being as meaningful as people made it seem, but she was positively sure she despised Julie after being in the same room with her for less than an hour.

Pete looked at Marshall apologetically before kissing Peyton for another five seconds. The girl didn’t seem to mind it and went right back to her energy drink as if nothing had happened. Casey took another breath, daunted by having to witness strangers making out while having Derek, of all people, next to her. He must have sensed it because she felt his gaze on her right after.

It was Peyton’s turn to spin the bottle, which landed on Stephanie; Marshall was less intimidated by the kiss, that didn’t last as long as the first one. Then Stephanie had to kiss Will, who didn’t spare adjectives to describe how he would much rather kiss a boy before nearly bending over the table and kissing her eagerly.

Casey felt her skin prickling, suddenly hot, despite the weather. Surely, she couldn’t be the only person feeling uncomfortable. Will’s words sounded wise right now, she felt like a pervert watching other people being so intimate. Sliding her hand across her neck, she bunched up her hair in her palm and tossed it over one shoulder. She noticed Derek was observing her, which only made the heat spread across her body and send blood to her cheeks. 

The sounds of whistling and laughter brought her back to reality and she understood the commotion when Will lurched to kiss Pete passionately on the lips. 

“Get married already!” Harry shouted.

“My turn.” Julie grabbed the bottle and set her eyes on Derek shamelessly. At this point, Casey was contemplating trying a bottle of beer. Or maybe two. 

Julie’s bottle ended up pointing at Tom and her disappointment was a source of brief relief and bliss for Casey. Tom had to try three times before his bottle pointed at a girl, which was Julie once again. Harry had to spin two times as well because at first, it landed on Casey.

She found comfort in the fact that no one had kissed Derek yet. But as soon as Marshall spun the bottle, it would be his turn. And why was she so bothered by the fact? She knew he brought a different girl to his dorm every other day; but she never had to _see_ him kissing them. Which didn’t matter in the end, because it was his life and she had absolutely no participation in it when it came to relationships. 

She didn’t want to know about them. Out of sight, out of mind, after all.

Derek flickered his gaze to her once more, directed at her neck; she could almost see the red spots across her warm skin. She watched as Marshall grabbed the bottle with slightly trembling hands and didn’t apply much strength to his movement, obviously trying to make it land on Peyton. He tried to hide a tiny smile after succeeding and everyone smiled at the adorable unofficial couple as they kissed. 

But then Julie adjusted the bottle at the center of the table again and looked at Derek. Casey peeked at him, watching as he hesitantly reached for the bottle and set it spinning like a blur. She held her breath as its rear end stopped between her and Tom. 

She lifted her eyes to Derek, who was already looking at her; she would have averted her eyes if he hadn’t done it before. She had never seen him act that way. There was an unusual subtle feeling of uneasiness that emanated from him. 

But no one seemed to notice the awkwardness—the fact that they were step-siblings was unknown by the entirety of Queen’s—and the moment that felt like an eternity to her didn’t last longer than two seconds.

"If Casey’s not playing, Tom it is!" Will chirped. 

"Hell no, I'd rather throw myself out this window," Tom replied. 

"If you say this is too gay, I'll throw you out that window _myself_." 

"Just spin it again," Julie said impatiently, shifting her cold gaze to Casey. “She shouldn’t even be here if she’s not playing.”

"You’re right,” Casey agreed, standing up and trying a cordial smile. “Excuse me." 

She whirled around and sauntered off the apartment before she could see any reactions, stopping when she closed the door on her way out, muffling the sounds from the inside. It felt like stepping out of a sauna into the pleasant breeze of springtime. Casey inhaled and exhaled deeply, relishing the air that could finally circulate through her lungs. Now that she wasn’t surrounded by smoke, crappy music, and strangers making out, she was wondering if she had overreacted. 

Of course Derek wouldn’t kiss her. She wasn’t even in the game. And even if he tried—which he wouldn’t, we’re clear on that—she wouldn’t let it happen. The only reason she felt weird was because _she_ made it weird.

The door swung open and she turned to see Derek stepping out into the hall, closing the door after him. She stared at him in confusion as he approached her.

“You don't have to leave because I’m leaving, Derek. Go back inside, I’ll just get a cab.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I should've known it wasn’t your thing."

"No,” she denied quickly, giving up on the lie the moment he raised an eyebrow at her. “I mean, yeah." 

“Julie is a little bitchy sometimes. Don’t take it personally.”

“That's okay. Just go...” She gestured to the door. “I'll go back to the dorm and start my paper that's due on Tues—"

"Yeah, that's not happening," he said decisively, rolling his eyes. "Stay here."

"Where are you going?"

"Stay right here," he repeated, going back inside the apartment. 

Casey waited resignedly, intrigued by his behavior. He didn’t take more than a minute to come back with two beers in his hands, offering one to her.

“Derek, what are you doing?”

He only smirked and stretched out his hand, urging her to accept the beer before motioning with his chin for them to take the elevator. If she was certain of anything in her life, it was that she would never understand how Derek’s mind worked. 

Their alleged friendship still scared her sometimes; it was like a matter hidden behind layers of shelved thoughts that came out whenever he acted incongruently. Like now, when he was willingly leaving a party to hang out with her.

"I don't know what you were planning with Emily, but I'm not drinking beer," she warned him.

He looked at her with a teasing grin. "What about the trying-stuff-four-times thing?"

"Are you going to use it against me forever?"

"Well, that's up to you. But can you imagine how it’d be like if you went to your first college party _and_ had your first beer on the same night? Talk about _wild_ ," he said mockingly.

Casey rolled her eyes, but followed in tow when he stepped out of the elevator onto the street. The air was even chillier than before and she crossed her arms, holding the bottle of beer by its tip to keep the coldness from freezing her fingers.

“You parked that way,” she mentioned, pointing at the opposite direction.

“We’re going _that_ way,” Derek said, jerking his chin towards the park across the corner of the street. 

Tall trees surrounded the quaint space, towering over benches where Casey imagined people liked to freshen up during the summer, hiding away from the sun. There was a football field near the far end of the park and a small fountain that wasn’t working. They sat down quietly on its edge made out of cast stone and Casey was careful enough to add a considerable distance between them.

Derek rested his elbows on his thighs and chugged his beer, facing the football field with a placid look. She looked around, absorbing the fact that they were the only people there. Her eyes flew up to the pitch-black sky, painted with shiny specks of light. She sighed unwittingly, appreciating the peacefulness of that single moment. 

She turned to look at him, tempted to break that unconventional occasion they were sharing to voice her thoughts. 

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice sounded louder in the quietness of the night.

His eyes shifted to her face. “Doing what?”

“Hanging out with me. Pushing me to go to parties. Ditching said parties."

Derek laughed through his nose, taking another sip of his beer. "You can't spend your college life being lame and expect to be associated with me."

"Seriously, Derek."

His playful expression morphed into seriousness and he looked at the bottle between his hands, swirling it around. 

"You don't need me ruining your reputation," she insisted.

He shook his head very subtly, lifting his eyes to her again. "You help me out with studying, I help you out with this. Or _try_ to."

Of course this was merely an exchange of favors, she shouldn’t even have contemplated another possibility.

"But, I mean... it's cool," he continued, shrugging nonchalantly. Yet, his eyes were roaming over her face as if they were checking for approval. "We're cool now, right?"

She smiled. "Are you trying to say we’re friends?"

" _No_ ," he affirmed, scrunching up his nose at the word. "But it doesn’t suck entirely. Spending time with you. You’re... _slightly_ more tolerable now."

"Well, that's comforting."

"Plus it's fun seeing you embarrassed in front of other people. Gives me flashbacks to the old Klutzilla days."

"You’re such a good person, Derek," she said ironically.

A humorous smile began to spread across his lips and he turned his head partially to look at her under his eyelashes. Casey’s breath hitched as he took a moment to analyze her and extended his arm to offer her his beer.

"Just try it."

She eyed the beverage reluctantly for a few seconds and grabbed it, following a drop of condensed water running down the dark glass. The only thing on her mind was the realization that she had never shared any food or drink with him and it shouldn’t feel as weird. _Should it?_ Was it weird to drink from something his lips had been on?

“Any time in this century,” he mocked.

Casey brought the bottle to her lips and took a swig, closing her eyes and scrunching up her nose when the bitter liquid reached her throat. Derek chuckled, amused. 

“God, this is terrible,” she said. She tried another sip and, this time, she noticed the aftertaste of bread-like flavor. It didn’t make it any better. “Yup, still bad.”

“Two more,” he encouraged, scooting closer to place his hand around the bottle, covering her hand in the process. She pretended not to notice the way her stomach froze at the innocent touch and tried two more sips. 

“Okay, four times,” she said, shaking her head in an attempt to get rid of the unmitigated bad taste and handing the beer back to Derek. 

“I can’t believe everything I’ve done in life has led me to this exact moment,” he said, the humor evident in his tone as he grinned at her. “You drinking under my influence. This is a story that’ll pass down generations.”

“It’s not even a big deal.”

“It wouldn’t be a big deal for any normal human being,” he contested, finishing the beer before snagging the bottle that was supposed to be hers. 

He agilely placed one edge of the bottle cap on top of the edge of the fountain, holding the neck of the bottle tight, and used his other hand to slam down on the bottle. After a few taps, the cap popped off.

"You seem to know the trick quite well," she mentioned.

"Sam and I used to steal from dad’s stash every now and then."

"Sam?"

Derek flashed her a mischievous smile. "Sorry to burst your bubble. Your ex isn't as perfect as you thought."

"There's nothing wrong with that, I was just surprised." She yanked the beer from his hands and he cocked his eyebrows at her; his grin intensifying while she swallowed the liquid against her better judgment. 

“Nothing wrong with that?” he teased.

“No.”

Derek nodded, feigning surprise. “Wow. One college party and you’re all fuck-this-shit.”

“What?”

“I’m not complaining. Rebel Casey is cool. I like rebel Casey.”

“Shut up, Derek.”

He chuckled, stealing the beer back and staring ahead. They stayed like that for a considerable amount of time, simply passing the bottle back and forth, appreciating a quiet and pleasant night at a park past midnight. 

"Are college parties always so... childish?" she asked after some time.

"Whenever Will’s around, yes. He literally played hide-and-seek last week. But in his defense, he was pretty drunk and when we went to find him, he had passed out under the table in the kitchen.”

She chuckled. "Yeah, but Will is nice."

"When he's not trying to grope me, yeah."

Casey let out a giggle, realizing it came out inadvertently, probably due to her nonexistent resistance to alcohol. Derek seemed entertained enough to chuckle at the sound. 

"Isn’t he in love with Pete or something, though?”

“It doesn’t really stop him from flirting with anyone who lets him.”

“Oh, so you let him?”

Derek gasped in fake incredulity, squinting his eyes at her. “Getting bold, are we?”

“He was jumping in his seat waiting for that bottle to stop on him whenever any guy was spinning it around."

"Reason number one why I never play."

Casey opened her mouth with the next question dancing at the tip of her tongue. _Why did you play today, then?_ Fortunately, she was still in possession of some control and forced the question down her throat, closing her mouth shut. 

Derek's eyes lingered on her face, as if expecting her to voice her thoughts. She averted her eyes to one of the bottles that sat between them. Her fingers curled around it and she began to play with it, trying to alleviate the tension.

"I can’t believe I spent one hour on the phone with Em picking clothes just so I could stay inside a preppy boy’s mini-mansion for thirty minutes."

" _One hour_?" he echoed, perplexed. 

She looked at him with demure, shrugging. "I didn't know what to wear, okay?" Her attention flew back to the bottle; she ran her index finger across the rim very carefully.

"Well, this looks good," Derek said, moving his hand to grab the hem of her jacket, gently tugging at it.

Her eyes rose to his face, slightly wide, and the moment her mind stopped running coherently, her hand suffered a spasm and the bottle slipped out of her reach. They both looked down as it spun on its bottom only to fall on its side and come to a stop; its rear end pointing at Derek so shamelessly. 

Casey looked at him again; his eyes went up to her face, staring brazenly into her eyes. There was an inquisitive aspect to it, like he was holding on to a question she couldn't guess, trying to decipher her thoughts. 

"It must be pretty late, I want to go back," she said as soon as she felt confident to use her voice again. 

He smirked. “What happened to drinking-beer-and-staying-out-til-late-Casey?”

“She never existed.”

“I beg to differ,” he countered, grabbing the infamous empty bottle to shake it in front of her face. 

Casey rolled her eyes, getting up to walk back to their car. She heard his steps after her. 

“What are you even going to do in your dorm on a Friday night?” he asked. 

“I don’t know. Maybe read something.”

Derek groaned, appearing at her side. “My God, you’re so lame.”

“Yet you’re here when you could be at the party.”

He scoffed. “Don't flatter yourself. I'm simply a man of my word.”

"You can go back." 

"Well, I can’t fucking stand Walsh. You kind of did me a favor getting us out of there, so... don’t say I never thanked you for anything.”

“Why don’t you like him?” she asked, searching for his eyes as he fished for the car keys in his pocket. 

Derek made a sarcastic sound as they climbed into the car that had been parked by the curb across Steve's apartment. 

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

"I just figured you wouldn't be friends with someone you can't stand." 

"I'm not friends with him. He's friends with _Julie_ , who insists on dragging this fuck along to every party she goes to."

She raised an eyebrow, looking at his profile. “So _Julie_ is the problem?" 

He frowned. "What does Julie have to do with anything?"

" _You_ brought her into this. I'm guessing there's jealousy involved, but you'd never admit it—" 

" _Woah_ , jealousy?" he cut her off, glancing briefly at her before she desperately gestured for him to look at the road. "Maybe the beer was a little too much for you." 

"I'm not an idiot."

"I'm not jealous. I don't ever get jealous, let alone of Julie," he said defensively. "She's crazy." 

"Ugh, classic sexist speech after a bad breakup." 

He laughed sarcastically. "Okay, for starters, there was no breakup. We were never anything. And this isn't some sexist shit, she's legit crazy," he affirmed. "We hooked up when we were drunk and she thinks we're engaged or something."

The revelation gnawed at her heart. She was certain they had gotten together as soon as she laid her eyes on Julie. But hearing him confirm it brought a taste of bitterness to her mouth. Worse than beer. 

"A girl's after you and you're complaining? What has college done to you, Derek?" she joked. 

But the question seemed to resonate with him, for he furrowed his brows in thoughtfulness. She didn't say another word until they were back on campus. Derek had just parked the car and his expression had softened a little. 

“Well, thanks for... whatever that was,” she said, unfastening her seatbelt. 

Derek looked at her with his trademark smirk. “It was freedom, Casey. Freedom.”

She rolled her eyes, an easy smile appearing on her own lips. “Good night.”

He held his hand up and she high-fived him; his fingers curled around hers before she could retrieve, but he let go right after. She could feel the heat starting to reach her cheeks very quickly. 

“Good night, Case.”

***

He was at her door at 8 p.m. She knew it because Sarah’s unnerved yelling, the cause of the daily bickering she had with Derek, was loud enough to be heard from her bed.

Sarah and Ivy, her roommates, had both been victims of Derek’s attempts to lure them into going out with him—the second he met them, with only minutes apart—and, although Ivy had been able to laugh it off, Sarah held a grudge that was inevitably uncontrollable. 

“...and if you don't get the hell out of here in five seconds, I'm going to kick you in the balls," Sarah threatened, her voice getting deeper like it did whenever she was seconds from using violence.

Casey sighed, begrudgingly tossing her blanket to the side and pulling her hair up into a messy bun. She always woke up before eight in the morning, but after coming home so late in the night, she had forgotten to set her alarm. 

“Sarah!” she exclaimed, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be traveling for spring break or something?” Derek asked in his usual cavalier manner. 

She walked over to the pair in time to see Sarah stealing one of the paper cups Derek had in his hands and leave him standing at the door, staring at her in perplexity. 

“You owe me a coffee,” he yelled after her.

“Fuck you. And have a terrible day."

Derek snorted and leaned his shoulder against the door frame, setting his eyes upon Casey. “How do you put up with that?”

“I put up with _you_ ,” Casey replied, grabbing the remaining cup from his hand to take a sip of hot tea. “What are you doing here?”

He flashed her a creepy smile, which she reckoned would look like a bashful smile on someone else’s face. Casey sighed quietly, taking another swig of her tea before guessing.

“What do you need help with?”

“Okay, so I have this 10-page essay that I was supposed to write last week—”

“I’m not writing it for you.”

“It’s already done. Well, _mostly_ ,” he added with a shrug. “I was writing it last night, because it was due yesterday.”

Casey raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean last night? You wrote it after the party?”

“Yes,” he affirmed with obviousness. 

She shook her head. “I can’t even find words to describe how incredibly irresponsible and—”

“Cool, no need to,” he cut her off. “I just need you to check everything for me and... you know... _maybe_ help me out with the conclusion?”

“Wasn’t it due yesterday anyway? Your professor’s not going to accept it.”

“Well, he told us to email it to him. I’ll just write an email to myself and then forward it to him changing the date so he thinks I sent it yesterday, but something went wrong.”

Casey stared at him in a mix of awe and helplessness. She didn’t know whether to be impressed or shocked that his mind was able to come up with easy solutions for his recklessness. If he was just as eager to use his intelligence for studying as he did for tricking and deceiving, he would possibly be an excellent student.

“What’s it like inside your mind?” she asked.

He grinned. “Will you help me or not?”

“Fine. But can we do this in your dorm? Sarah has to pack for the trip and you two can’t stay in the same room for more than five minutes.”

“What are you talking about? I love Sarah,” he said ironically, holding a palm to his chest.

Casey waved her hand at the hall. “I’m just going to change. I’ll meet you there.”

She closed the door and changed into a pair of jeans and a comfortable hoodie, saying goodbye to Sarah and Ivy before stepping out of the dorm. Her roommates were leaving for Florida for spring break with a few friends. They had invited her, but besides not having enough money, she missed her family too much to choose a couple of days on the beach with drunk people she barely knew over them.

As she traipsed around the almost empty campus, she saw groups of people carrying their bags and talking animatedly—an abnormal contrast to their gloomy behavior on normal days of classes. She stopped by the nearest cafe to buy another cup of coffee for Derek and headed to his dorm. He had been drinking a lot of coffee in the last weeks; she hadn’t mentioned it, but she noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the easiness with which he fell asleep when they were watching a movie or studying. 

Which is why it wasn’t a surprise when she opened the door to his dorm to find him soundly asleep on his bed. His body was askew over the blankets, one forearm over his eyes, shoes still on. He had probably lied down to wait for her and ended up falling asleep.

Casey watched him closely for a few minutes before looking for his laptop and sitting at his desk. She placed his coffee right next to her and found his essay as soon as she opened the laptop. The document had been left open. 

His writing had improved tremendously and she took pride—and credit—in the fact that he had been reading more, even if obligated and procrastinating to the maximum. He finished most of his projects and papers in time and his grades had been increasing ever since they started doing studying sessions.

There weren’t many typos, but she had to rewrite a few paragraphs that felt too prolix or incoherent. She glanced at Derek in between pauses to check if he was still asleep and when she realized it had been two hours since she had arrived, it was clear that he was exhausted.

Nora called close to lunchtime to confirm that she was heading home the next day and when she was saying goodbye, Derek shifted in bed. She hung up and rested her forearm over the back of the chair, looking at him. 

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" 

Derek rubbed his eyes and stretched his body with a loud yawn. “No.” He looked at the window with squinted eyes and sat up, running his fingers through his tousled hair. "What time is it?”

“Past one.”

He groaned, resting his back to the wall and stretching his legs. 

"You haven't been sleeping, I thought I should let you rest for a while," she said.

Derek’s eyes flickered to hers. "How do you know?"

"The dark, dark circles under your eyes?" she guessed, pointing at her own eyes to illustrate. 

Derek nodded, sighing deeply. She grabbed his coffee and got up, walking up to him to hand him the cup. He frowned.

“I bought you another one. I thought it might help.”

He nodded, grabbing the cup. Casey sat down on the edge of the bed next to his, facing him. She observed as he swallowed the coffee with a gulp.

“Is something bothering you?” she asked, gingerly.

His eyes went back to her face, studying it carefully, but she knew him well enough to know he wasn’t even considering telling her what was clearly depriving him of sleep. He was simply ignoring the question with the only way he knew how to do it.

"I'm here if you want to talk,” she insisted. “Not that you ever want to, but..."

Derek let out a breathy laugh. "Sure, let's form a club and braid our hair too."

Casey rolled her eyes. She sensed his irony was the only barrier he still had regarding their relationship. When she looked back into their past of bickering and pestering each other, she was able to recognize how much they had changed with each other. But whenever Derek felt like she was stepping over a line, he would put on his smirk and push her away. 

“Hey,” she began, changing topics, “my mom just called me. She wanted to know if we’re both going home tomorrow.”

He flexed one knee and rested his wrist over it, holding the coffee cup between his index and his thumb. “Wasn’t that the plan?”

“Yeah, but it’s still weird that you’re choosing to go home during spring break.”

Derek sighed with impatience, his eyes still glued to the cup. “I don’t have any money. Plus, I told Marti I’d go and if I don’t show up I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Casey smiled to herself. The connection Derek had with Marti was certainly endearing, and that was the only occasion in which she would choose the word ‘endearing’ to define him. She could see how much of an influence Marti had been for his decision behind his facade.

“Alright. The only thing that may throw you off...”

He looked up at her with a knowing look. “What?”

“Edwin and Lizzie have this road trip, and my mom has a work thing in Windsor—"

"So we’re babysitting Marti?" he guessed, with a wave of his hand.

"Yes."

"Classic."

"It’s just for two days, though. They’ll be back on Monday. But I told her I'll do it. You can still hang out with Sam or whatever.”

Derek nodded, his eyes roaming around the room until they found his laptop on his desk. 

“Oh, I was doing some research,” she said, regaining his attention. “I haven’t finished the conclusion, but I found some stuff that you can add to your topics.”

“You changed the whole thing, didn’t you?"

“No, I didn’t,” she replied with what sounded like a brag. Proving him wrong still brought a feeling of victory to her. 

She got up to take his laptop and give it to him. Derek jerked his head to the side, signaling for her to take a seat beside him on the bed. She complied, adding a bit of distance; it had been a couple of months since she started overthinking their proximity whenever there was no one else around. 

There was an odd feeling of uncomfortableness that came with it—being too close to establish eye contact, the occurring accidental touch of hands when they were gesticulating, that weird lapse in time that she felt whenever they laughed and it subsided slowly and she didn’t know where to look at but his face. She liked it when he laughed. 

But apparently—not shockingly—those were paranoias of her own.

“I don’t bite,” he teased, as he moved closer. 

Casey ignored him the way she did her thoughts inadvertently conjuring images she shouldn’t even cogitate. She pushed them away for her own sanity and forced herself to listen to Derek’s questions. The sudden and surprising interest he was showing in the assignment was enough to keep her distracted. He didn’t even roll his eyes at her explanations or suggestions, but rather listened to them in respectful silence.

Eventually, he started combing through the information she had gathered for his essay and she opened up a book she had brought along while he worked on the final pages by himself. He had complaints about the extra amount of work she had consequently attributed to him with her own research and they had a silly five-minute argument, for a change. Those moments kept Casey sane; they were a gentle reminder that they hadn’t changed completely.

After a late lunch, Casey left his dorm to take a shower and start packing for the trip they would be taking the next day. She was ecstatic about going home; sure, she talked to her family every Friday, and Lizzie and Marti were constantly calling her, but she missed them. She was also excited about hanging out with Emily and Sam, who still lived in London and shared an apartment near their campus. 

It took her an hour to pack everything she needed for the road and take a quick shower. It was nearly nighttime when she walked back to Derek’s dorm. He was still in his bed, watching a hockey game; his eyes were glued to the screen when he spoke up.

"Does it take you that long to take a shower?"

"I was packing," she explained, approaching his closet to look for his bag. 

"Of course you were," he responded with a chuckle, followed by a grumble directed at the game.

Casey found the bag and began her search for his clothes, which were scattered around the dorm in different places. He had more shirts laying on top of a chair than hanging in his closet. 

"Casey, what are you doing?" he asked with a sigh when she was finishing folding all his clothes properly. 

"Packing."

"Okay. _Why_?"

"You're going to forget something." She placed his bag next to Scott’s bed and turned to see him arching his eyebrows mockingly at her. “What?”

“It’s one week. You packed literally everything I own."

“And now you’re ready for any occasion.”

He rolled his eyes and went back to the TV, while she grabbed her book and took her place beside him. After a few minutes of silence—only interrupted by his swearing or cheering at his team’s moves—someone knocked at the door. Derek had ordered pizza and she was too hungry and too ashamed to complain about eating carbs at night when he was nice enough to buy them food. 

Casey stopped her reading and watched the game with him while they ate. She would never admit it, but hockey wasn’t as boring now that she was more familiar with the rules. She had found out that he wasn’t impatient or annoyed when she asked about it; it was rather the contrary: he wouldn’t shut up about it once he started ranting. And you could call Casey a romantic, but there was something astoundingly adorable about someone who couldn’t stop talking about something they were passionate about.

Not that Derek was adorable.

That thought had never crossed her mind.

Because he wasn’t.

"I should go," she said, using a napkin to clean the remnants of grease in her hands. "It's getting late."

He turned his head to look at her. "Just crash here."

"My stuff’s in my dorm."

"Oh, shit, you’re right. It’s not like we can get it tomorrow before we go."

She rolled her eyes at his irony and settled in her seat quietly, letting the silence reinstate itself between them, save for the sound of the TV in the background. Her eyes went back to her book, but she couldn’t concentrate fully on the words, because the realization that she had silently agreed to spend the night in his dorm was beginning to occur to her. It wasn’t like it meant anything,—what on Earth could it mean, anyway?—but she had never shared a room with Derek. 

Before she could descend into complete madness thinking about the nonexistent implications that might bring, Casey blocked out the sound of cheering coming from the TV and her own companion and focused on her book. If she kept reading, she would soon feel drowsy enough to fall asleep. It happened sooner than she thought. 

Like any compulsive reader, she couldn’t find a comfortable position she could hold for more than fifteen minutes and quickly enough, she had laid down on her side, knees bent so that her feet wouldn’t reach Derek on the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes fluttered shut before she could read the first paragraph of a new page. 

She woke up a few hours later with a low thud, her heartbeat speeding up with the minor scare. There was a blanket over her body now, Derek must have covered her before he decided to turn the lights off and go to sleep. Only he wasn't on the other bed.

“My bad,” she heard him say across the now dim-lit dorm.

Casey rubbed her eyes and propped herself up with her elbows, looking for Derek’s silhouette next to the minibar. 

“What are you doing up?” she asked quietly, her voice rusty from the sleep. 

“Jogging,” he jeered.

Casey carefully sat up, running her fingers through her hair. Derek bent down to grab the water bottle that had fallen on the floor and woken her, placing it on top of the minibar. 

“Go back to sleep.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

She observed as he walked to Scott's bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, facing her. It was fairly dark, but the almost transparent fabric of the lousy curtain that covered the window wasn’t nearly enough to block the illumination from the lampposts outside, that cast bizarre shadows on one side of his face.

"It’s not nothing. You're not sleeping, it's not healthy."

"I sleep in class," he retorted with a dose of humor that didn’t feel real. 

"Derek." 

The gravitas in her voice made him sigh and he averted his eyes to the window. She watched him in silence for a few seconds, and when it became clear he wouldn’t continue the conversation, she insisted.

"Why can’t you sleep?"

She had noticed his exhaustion and even joked about it when he started relying on coffee, something he despised up until the beginning of that semester, but perhaps there was something bigger than what her mind could picture taking a toll on his mental health.

Derek slid his palms across his face and rested his elbows on top of his knees, leaning forward. His eyes shifted to her face and he shrugged. "I don’t know." 

“I know college is hard,” she said, softly. 

Despite his innate knack for irresponsibility—she didn’t think she could change it even if she tried—he had been thoroughly investing his time in studying and striving for better grades. He wasn’t used to pulling all-nighters and worrying about his future, but maybe he was finally maturing. And growing up was a grueling task. 

“No shit.”

“You're anxious.”

“I don’t have anxiety,” he denied in a defensive tone. 

“Derek, I’ve lived with it my whole life. Not sleeping when I have midterms or an important project to finish is all I do. It’s what’s been happening to you. Now you can take a break, that's fine.”

“I’m not a fucking keener.”

“No need to disclaim that,” she sneered, throwing her blanket to the side to get up.

Derek looked up at her with a frown. “What are you doing?”

“Lay down,” she said. 

"What?"

"Lay down." 

He stared up at her reluctantly, slowly letting his body fall onto the bed. Casey sat beside him, leaning her back against the headboard, wary about keeping a moderate distance between them. 

“Okay, what the hell are you doing?” he asked again. 

Now she wished she had weighed her options better before acting on impulse because she was asking herself the same question. Her right hand found his hair, brushing it gently. She could feel him tensing up, which caused her to stop for a brief moment. 

“It works on Lizzie when she can't sleep," she explained, taking a deep breath before combing his hair with her fingers again. 

Casey wasn’t brave enough to inspect his reaction, but she imagined his face was a mix of shock and surprise. Derek didn’t always respond well to physical contact, especially when it was unexpected; that was the only thing that hadn’t changed in their relationship. So being so close to him while simultaneously touching his oddly soft hair was almost like crossing a line. 

Derek cleared his throat. "Yeah, I don't think that's gonna help."

"Let's see if it does."

"If you say four—"

"Four times," she confirmed, letting an easy smile spread on her lips as she slid her hand even further into his hair. 

When he let out a weak sigh, she looked down to see he had his eyes already closed. The unmitigated silence became even more conspicuous, which, combined with the oddness of the situation, added a touch of unrealism. She couldn’t believe how easily he had given in to her attempt to help. Or how easily _she_ had volunteered to help in the first place.

But she presumed his sleepless nights were fogging his brain and his capacity to deny anything that could potentially end his agony. So she settled more comfortably on the bed, looking at him, rapt. She never allowed herself to candidly look at him, drink in every detail of his face. So she did. From the sharp lines of his jaw to the few freckles just above the nose that scattered faintly across his cheekbones like a constellation. 

He drifted off to sleep a couple of minutes after that, and she shamelessly pretended not to take into account the fact that there was no need for her to continue to be at his side for the next thirty-seven minutes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this one! You can leave me some kudos or drop a comment if you want!  
> I'm planning on updating every day, but let's see how this one goes.  
> Have a lovely day ❤️


	2. Of Mild Storms and Binary Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ❤️  
> I forgot to specify it, but each chapter is going to be narrated by a different POV, so we get to see how they feel about and react to every situation. This one is Derek's POV, I hope you enjoy it!

_"Seasons change,_

_Gone away then back again_

_Every sign I see is you_

_I am tired of hiding how I feel_

_Every sign is telling me it's real"_

_(Spring Rain - Oscar Dubar)_

Derek

It had been happening more than he was ready to admit, that careless behavior. 

It wasn’t like Casey and the stupid, _stupid_ , effect she had on him had never served as an obstacle he constantly tripped over in his life, but he was crossing every limit. He knew he would have to be more vigilant of himself once he escaped his father’s sight, but he never imagined it would be this hard. 

Having his family around was both his doom and salvation—it reminded him of how inadequate his unruly feelings about Casey were and stopped him from ever acting upon them. But once the family wasn’t around, he solely hinged on his own self-control to keep preserving something he wasn’t even sure what was. _Ethics? Morals?_ He didn’t have much of those.

Or maybe he did. Add it to the list of things that changed in the course of a year.

Derek wasn’t sure when he decided that pretending he didn’t care about Casey was tiring and pointless, but when she didn’t question or reject his sudden constant presence, he felt relief. It was oddly liberating not having to debate with himself whether he should be around her when he wanted to. 

Only he still had to map out his words and actions, because it was shamefully easy to forget about the lines he had drawn for himself whenever he was alone with her. The other night had been just another terrible example of what could happen when his guard was down. 

All he wanted was for her to step out of her dorm and enjoy her college experience. But suddenly Tom fucking Walsh was sitting there, blatantly flirting with her and Derek got caught up in a game of spin-the-bottle. A twisted part of him expected her to change her mind and join the game when that bottle landed on her. But when she looked up at him with wide eyes and an adorable shade of pink spreading across her cheeks, he censored his own thoughts.

They came back when the bottle fell out of her reach and pointed unabashedly at him. It was just an accident. The gnawing feeling of helplessness hit him like a wave; somehow, he always ended up at the same place. Had it been anyone else there, sitting under a starry night with him, sharing a couple of beers, it would have been so simple to reach out and kiss them. But it wasn’t someone else and he wasn’t allowed to feel that way. 

They didn’t talk about the palpable awkwardness that ensued from his comment about the way she looked—because complimenting her clothes would be the closest he would ever get to tell her she was beautiful—or the way she helped him sleep the night before. He would never tell her how good it felt to have her brushing his hair. 

So when they hit the road early in the morning and she hopped in the driver’s seat, because he hated driving long hours, he stuck to comments about classes, their family, and plans for the week.

Their family was waiting for them when they arrived near one-thirty; Nora and George received them at the doorstep with hugs and extreme gestures of affection that he promptly avoided. He missed them very much, but he still valued his own space. 

The kids came running down the stairs to greet them as soon as they heard the commotion and for a few minutes, Derek couldn’t understand a single word that came out of their mouths in the middle of that turbulent excitement. 

“Oh, my God, never leave this house again,” Lizzie said, hugging Casey. 

“Come on, get inside,” Nora beckoned them in. “How was the trip?”

“Sit down,” George gestured for them to accommodate themselves in the living room. 

Derek plopped down on his stretcher and Marti jumped to sit on his lap, laughing uncontrollably when he began to tickle her sides. He loved his family, but he missed that kid the most. 

Casey sat on the couch, while Edwin and Lizzie followed her. 

“It was good,” Casey said, sweeping her eyes across the room as if looking for something. “Where’s Simon?”

“I finally got him to sleep,” Lizzie explained. Derek didn’t find it surprising that his baby brother was only able to calm down when the only sane person in the family was around. 

“Don’t worry, he’ll most likely start screaming at the top of his lungs in a few hours, so you’ll get to see him,” Edwin commented with an obviousness to his tone that indicated he knew what he was talking about. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” George asked. 

“I spent the whole morning cooking for you,” Nora mentioned, proudly.

“Then she burned everything and we had to order in,” Edwin completed.

“That's okay,” Casey chuckled. “I'd eat anything at this point. I hate college food."

Derek scoffed, freeing Marti from his hands to look at Casey with debauchery. “ _Please_. How many times did you make me get those tasteless bagels they serve in the coffeehouse for you?" 

She rolled her eyes. "You’ve never even tried them. They’re whole wheat, it’s healthy for you. And that's about the only thing I like."

Edwin craned his neck to look at his brother with arched eyebrows and a skeptical expression. “You’re... getting food _yourself_? For _other_ people? For _Casey_? What the hell’s college done to you?”

“Well, if I don’t go buy food, it doesn’t appear miraculously in my dorm, Edwin. That’s how it works.” He brought his attention back to Marti and lifted her by the waist above his head. The girl chuckled, dangling her legs in the air. 

Nora let out an intrigued ‘huh’, the corners of her mouth quirking up in a smile as she rushed them into the dining room and asked Edwin and Lizzie to help finish setting the table.

“So, how have you been?” Nora asked, taking her seat next to George as everyone found their places around the table. “Ah, we’ve missed you two so much.”

“A little tired, but good,” Casey replied, reaching for a takeout bag. 

Derek grabbed one as well, scanning the food before starting to separate the few vegetables and green leaves from the meat and the rice, placing them on Casey’s plate across the table. 

She was still describing their trip to Nora while trading her dessert with his. It had become so natural to him that he didn’t fully comprehend the attention the exchange got from the family until he remembered they had been away for quite a long time for them to know things had changed.

“How are classes?” George asked, and Derek didn’t miss the curious look Nora was casting them. 

“Is Derek in danger of being expelled yet?” Edwin added.

Derek scowled, kicking his brother on the shin under the table. Edwin hissed in pain and George quickly reprimanded his oldest son, as usual. _Home sweet home._

“Actually, he’s been getting excellent grades,” Casey announced proudly, as a mother would do her child succeeding at school.

“ _Derek_? Excellent grades?” Lizzie jeered playfully, chuckling. Marti and Edwin joined her.

“That’s enough bullying for a day,” Derek retorted. 

Casey set her cutlery down to lean over the table as if to tell them a secret. “Well, it all started on a lovely sunny day after Derek got a D and _begged_ me for help,” she began, mockingly. 

Derek narrowed his eyes at her. “I did not _beg_ you for help.”

She lifted an eyebrow and picked up her fork again, straightening her posture. “Sarah would beg to differ. She saw the whole thing.”

“Sarah can suck—” He stopped mid-sentence, extremely aware of Marti’s sharp ears listening to his every word by his side. He shifted his gaze to his sister with a half-hearted smile. “Lollipops. She’s the best.”

“Anyway,” Casey continued, “I saw his obvious desperation and I made a study chart. We get together twice a week to study.”

“Oh.” George shifted his gaze between them in genuine surprise. “Oh, that’s great. I’m glad that’s working out.”

“Yeah, I told him he’s smart. He’s just lazy.”

“My motto,” Derek declared, winking at Casey. 

“I feel like I just stepped into Twilight Zone for a second,” Lizzie mentioned, staring at them both with interest. “No, scratch that. Since the moment you walked in.”

“Yeah, it’s weird,” Edwin agreed.

“I like it,” Marti beamed. 

“I think this is a clear cry for help,” Edwin insisted. “Derek, blink twice if you need me to help you.”

“I _think_ ,” Nora punctuated, pointing her fork at Derek, “that some maturing is happening here.”

“Maturing and Derek don’t work in the same sentence,” Casey countered.

“ _Unbelievable_ ,” Derek mumbled with his mouth full, which made Casey scrunch up her nose in disgust. He grinned. 

“I rest my case.”

Regardless of his attempts to disregard how much his relationship with Casey had affected the family, it became clearer as they delved into conversation that it was only natural. There was a new-found—at least to the others—sense of intimacy between the both of them, with recurring inner jokes and stories they weren’t privy to. 

When lunch was over, they climbed up the stairs in utter silence, and Derek didn’t know if she had felt the same awkwardness or if it was all in his head. She didn’t even acknowledge his presence before entering her old bedroom.

He put down his bag and threw himself onto his bed, sighing in bliss. He missed the softness of the mattress and the citric smell of detergent on his sheets. Nora must have washed them before they arrived. 

He propped himself up with his elbows and looked around, watching what remained from his old room. He was certain Edwin had been in there countless times, but everything seemed to be in order.

His eyes fell on the bag he had left on the floor. Casey had fallen asleep with her book in her hand the night before and he put it inside his bag so she wouldn’t forget about it in the morning. He should simply put it in her room when she wasn’t there or hand it to her after they were rested. But his feet carried him deliberately to her door and she opened it after three light knocks, seemingly surprised. 

Derek pressed his lips together, an inexplicably contrite look in his eyes as he stretched out his hand and her eyes fixed on the book. 

“I put it in my bag last night and forgot to give you back.”

“Oh.” Casey took the book and looked up to beam at him; her eyes sparkled in the most fascinating way. He felt the familiar warmth sear through his chest. “Thanks, Derek.”

“And you said I’d be the one forgetting things,” he taunted. “That goes to show how mature I am.”

“Of course,” she complied ironically. “That’s why you’re bragging about it.”

He grinned. “Oh, you know me so well.”

Her mouth curved into a playful smile and he was briefly stunned by the way the corner of her eyes crinkled. A part of him rejoiced in the fact he had been able to change her responses to his witty comebacks. A year ago, she would’ve slammed the door on his face. Now that smile, that sardonic little thing, belonged to him. 

Derek shifted his eyes to the book she was pressing against her chest for a moment. He hated those intrusive thoughts, the ones that sneaked up on him and materialized themselves when he didn’t have full control over his mind.

“Derek?”

“Do you think it’s weird?” he asked, ignoring her as he leveled their eyes.

A crease appeared on her forehead. “What’s weird?”

“I don’t know. They’re looking at us like we’re aliens or something.”

“Well, you _did_ become a human being over the last couple of months, so I’d say it’s pretty normal.”

Derek snorted. “What, you think you changed me for the better?”

“I wish. You’re still a pain-in-the-ass. But more tolerable.”

“Is this payback for when _I_ said you were more tolerable?”

“Yes. But in your case, it’s actually a compliment.”

“Well, how fucking nice of you,” he retorted, feigning flattery. 

Casey simpered and he felt his own lips contorting into a smile of its own, like it was the natural course of the universe. She smiled, he smiled. He hated that; how unwittingly she had entered his life and he just _let_ her. How she had gained power over him before he couldn’t do anything. He would’ve stopped it if he could. But it was like an earthquake. How can you stop something you don’t even know it’s going to happen?

He woke up one day, the world was shaking and then it was turned upside down.

Something caught Casey’s attention above his shoulder and Derek followed her gaze to see Edwin staring at them. His eyebrows were arched, mouth slightly agape. 

“I was just... going to my room,” he said like he needed to give an explanation, disappearing behind his bedroom door.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Derek uttered.

“Just give them time. I needed three months to make sure you weren’t just being nice for a prank or something.”

“Wow. How come you never told me how highly you think of me?”

Casey rolled her eyes and grabbed the edge of the door, taking a step back. “Thanks for the book.”

Derek nodded and turned to go back to his room. He lay down on the bed again, glancing up at the ceiling and letting out a toiling sigh. 

He was finally home, but he felt out of place. Everything smelled and looked the same; he still bristled at his dad’s jokes and Marti’s hugs were still as warm and comforting, but now there was also judgment. Because despite what it looked like, nothing was the same.

In college, people didn’t know him. They knew what drink he liked or what position he played in hockey, but they didn’t know _him_. Here, he felt like his family could read his thoughts; like they could reach that dimly lit space he pushed to the back of his mind and uncover his secrets. That he felt more entitled to Casey than he should. That he felt a certain way he probably shouldn’t. 

So he made it his mission to guard himself and act as closely as possible to the Derek that had left that same house a few months before. 

After taking a quick nap, he found Marti in the living room, playing a board game with Lizzie. 

“Hey, Smerek!” The girl cheered, her eyes glimmering at him and softening his face with her natural charm. “Come play with us.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” he said, crouching down next to her. “Do you want to go to the park?”

Marti’s face lit up with a gigantic smile and she nodded frantically. “Yes!”

“You should probably ask George first,” Lizzie advised, rolling the dice. 

"I'll do it," Marti said. " _Dad_!" She proceeded to yell from her spot on the floor. 

Lizzie chuckled. “Well, _I_ could've done that."

George hurried into the living room, quickly agreeing to Marti’s request and throwing a wrench on Derek’s plans by encouraging her to take everyone else along. He would’ve argued that Casey was probably asleep and Edwin would most likely not be willing to go to a park, but he had clearly underestimated his brother when he materialized himself in the living room after hearing George suggest they bought ice cream on the way. And surely enough, Marti was climbing the stairs a few seconds later to call for Casey.

Derek obviously wouldn’t prohibit her from going, for it would only raise suspicion, so after a five-minute walk, he was paying for ice cream with George’s money—he was a college student, okay?—for all his siblings. 

Casey hadn’t said a word to him after he replied monosyllabically when she asked him if he had had time to talk to Emily and Sam yet. He suspected she had seen right through his flawed plan immediately. It made him feel a twinge of guilt.

_You don’t have a conscience. You don’t feel guilty._

Except he did. And it was partially Casey’s fault.

For a while, he busied himself by sharing his ice cream with Marti and answering her never-ending questions about college. Casey was talking to Lizzie in hushed tones and Edwin was glued to his phone, texting furiously. 

When she was done with her ice cream, Marti pulled him by the hand with impressive strength and made him accompany her to the swings. Like a Venturi, she challenged him to a who-goes-higher game and, as a self-proclaimed altruist when it came to Marti, he let her win. 

She had moved on to the slide when he heard the first roar. Derek looked up to watch the gray clouds overlapping each other in the sky, casting shadows all over the perimeter of the street. His first instinct was to look for Casey, as was Lizzie’s, he noticed. She was weirdly—and funnily enough—afraid of thunder. 

But she looked calm as she glanced up to examine the sky. It was only one of those mild storms that happened during spring; there were no lightning or power shortages, only cold rain, and drenched clothes. 

“It’s going to rain!” Edwin howled enthusiastically, tucking his phone under the roof of the slide to stand in the middle of the park with his arms stretched out like a gangly scarecrow, waiting for the raindrops.

The few people in the park began to scoot away with their kids and Derek approached his sister. 

“I think we might have to go home, Smarti,” he announced with a pout. 

“It’s just spring rain,” Casey said softly, near him. He whirled around to see her looking up, the corners of her mouth curved into an overjoyed smile. 

The first drops of rain fell on her face, both near her nose; she blinked and her smile intensified as she squeezed her eyes shut. He felt his stomach churning inside, a shrill voice inside his mind was reminding him of the fact that he was openly staring. 

He cleared his throat, lifting his hand to wipe his face. He hadn’t even noticed the drops on his skin. 

“Aren’t you afraid of storms or something?”

Casey inhaled, shaking her head. “This isn’t a storm. It’s spring rain. I love spring rain,” she murmured mid-smile.

There was a lapse in time. Derek felt it spreading its invisible barriers around them, blurring everything else and leaving him vaguely aware of his siblings’ raucous laughs somewhere near. 

He could see the raindrops peppering Casey’s ivory skin with what he reckoned must have felt like tiny kisses, prickling and falling to the ground. He should know. He could feel his own clothes sticking to his skin and his hair plastered to his forehead, but he was completely fascinated by the view to even care. 

“Come on,” Lizzie jolted him out of the trance by pulling Casey by the hand and beckoning him to follow. 

He was too flummoxed to move; he was never one to deal with feelings, let alone a plethora of them at the same time. But then Marti was jumping at him and he caught her in time, trying his best to ward off the sensation that still remained inside his body. 

Marti freed herself from him and began to jump between water puddles, splashing everyone else with blissful laughter. Casey picked Marti up and spun her around, while Lizzie cackled at Edwin, who had just fallen on the ground. The sounds of joy and nostalgia and home filled his ears like a tilting melody. Everything smelled like rain, freshly cut grass and happiness. 

But eventually, the rain subsided and they collectively agreed to walk back home. The sun was slowly coming out from its hiding place behind the clouds and the faint colors of a rainbow were starting to form as they arrived. Nora wasn’t thrilled to see them soaking wet and worriedly hurried Marti into taking a bath. They would have to take turns in the shower; as the oldest, Derek would be the last one, so he waited patiently in the backyard, lounging in a chair. 

“You might want to dry off a bit.” 

He turned his head to see Casey approaching him with a white towel in hands. She had a similar one wrapped around her shoulders, shielding her from the cold breeze of the afternoon. Derek accepted the towel and dried his hair before draping the fabric around his body and sinking into the chair again. 

Casey took a seat on the chair next to him. “Does it bother you that much?” she asked, softly.

“What?”

“How much we’ve changed.”

He grabbed the brim of the towel and pretended to wipe his cheek to think of a plausible answer. “Why?”

“Because you’re clearly trying to go back to how things were before.”

 _Of course she’d notice it._ He wasn’t as subtle as he claimed to be; at least not under pressure. Yet there was absolutely no reason for him to feel under pressure when the only thing that was bothering him was his own paranoia. _Why is it so bad if they see you’ve changed?_

It was only natural. Everyone knew he was the complete opposite of Casey and their entire relationship was based on arguments and rivalry. They had a system, a silent agreement—and it worked just fine. But now they were all looking at him as if he was a different person; as if he was weak for letting her in. 

“I’m not,” he blatantly lied, still avoiding her gaze.

“ _Please_ , Derek.” She sighed, resting her elbow on the arm of the chair to lean her cheek against her palm. “But don’t worry, I can play along.” 

There was a resignation to her voice, a colossal difference from the way she had spoken to him earlier. Because the same way she looked at him with a pleasant touch of awe whenever he did something unexpected, she also had a particular manner, marred with disappointment, to do the same whenever she was expecting him to let her down. He didn’t want her to think that he would only treat her normally when their family was away. 

Derek sighed, clutching his fists around the edges of his towel. “It’s just easier.”

“Why don’t you want people to know that we’re—”

“If you say friends, I’m going to ask you to leave this house and go back to Kingston.”

Casey chuckled instantly and his eyes rose to meet hers in time to see that lovely wrinkle on the corners of her eyes. 

“I just feel weird,” he continued. “And don’t tell me you don’t feel the same way.”

She shrugged, nodding. “A little. But if you keep going back and forth, they’ll never get used to this. _I’ll_ never get used to this. I never know how you’re going to treat me.” She pressed her lips together and uncrossed her leg to sit straight and look up at the sky. “Now you’re just being nice to me, like... half of the time. What’s so bad about that?”

Derek stared at her profile, particularly focused on the shade of pink that colored her cheek due to the coldness. He had always treated her differently than other people for his own sanity, desperately trying to avoid any intimacy. It would only lead him to feeling protective and perhaps even caring for her. And that was exactly what happened. _All for nothing._

He nearly jumped when he noticed George lurking near the backdoor, watching them silently with his hands in his pockets. Derek couldn’t help the feeling of chagrin that gnawed at him and straightened his body to address him.

“Dad?”

Casey turned her head to see George approaching them carefully, pointing his thumb towards the house.

“You’re up, Casey.”

She promptly got up and entered the house, leaving Derek to his insurmountable awkwardness upon the comprehension that his father might have been listening to their conversation. George made his way to the vacant chair Casey had left and took a seat, facing his son. 

“I barely had time to catch up,” he said, reaching out to pat Derek’s knee. “How are you, really?”

Derek shrugged nonchalantly. “Good.”

George nodded in agreement. “I feel you’re... lighter.”

“Lighter?”

“Yeah.” He let out a breathy chuckle. “I was a little worried before.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow at him, comically. “Your faith in me is touching.”

“Ah, you can’t blame me. I always knew you were smart, I just know your track record. But I’m glad you proved me wrong.” He gave him a fatherly smile, the one Derek had categorized as the ‘I’m-too-awkward-to-show-affection-but-here’s-a-smile-for-you’. No wonder he had trouble showing people he cared. 

George scratched the back of his neck and stared at the ground when he said, “I’m proud of you.”

Derek would never admit it, but his chest felt a little fuller with the bizarre combination of words his dad had used for the first time in his life. He was rarely the subject of pride for anyone. 

“And, uh... I’m glad that you and Casey have each other,” he resumed, sounding much more comfortable with the added speech. “That you finally get along. It makes me and Nora very happy, you know?”

Derek raised his eyebrows subtly, patiently waiting for George to continue. If he was expecting him to say something, he would be sitting for a long time. 

“She saw it coming.”

“Who saw what coming?” His response was too tense, too terse, too quick. He was ridiculously aware of his reactions to any subject related to Casey. 

“Nora. The moment you two left for college, and she stopped _crying_ ,” he chuckled, “Edwin wondered if it was a good idea to let you two go to the same school. Nora said you’d become friends.”

“We’re not friends,” he replied robotically, like he had been trained to deny that accusation each time it was thrown at him. 

George’s lips plastered a tiny smile, unconvinced. “You keep each other balanced. It’s a hard thing to find.”

With another pat on Derek’s knee, he smiled and got up to leave. Derek sat back on the chair and wondered if, maybe, his dad wasn’t as clueless as he had thought him to be.

***

Sam texted him in the evening to confirm his attendance at the party he had invited him to two weeks prior. Like two equally broke adults, he and Emily would enjoy their spring break in London as well and, since Derek couldn’t partake in reckless drinking and partying somewhere nice, he might as well do it in that boring ass place.

Casey wasn’t particularly thrilled with the idea of another party, especially after the fiasco the last one had been, but the anticipation of seeing her best friend was keeping her determined to go. 

After an eye-rolling deserved speech from Nora about drinking responsibly,—he did not miss _that_ —they headed to the address Sam had given him. It was two blocks away from the apartment they shared, near their campus.

Coincidentally, the pair was walking towards the entrance of the building when Derek parked the car by the curb and he and Casey hurried after them, in time to share an elevator. He hadn’t realized how much he missed his friends up until they were in front of him. Talking on the phone wasn’t nearly the same as having them right there. 

In between exchanges of hugs and exciting screams on the girls’ part, they entered the apartment as a group, assessing the place and the faces around, looking for anyone recognizable. Sam suggested that they roam around and grab a few drinks, and when he whirled around to see if Casey was comfortable enough with the ambient, she had already disappeared.

“Hey, come on,” Sam urged, placing a hand on his shoulder to accompany him to the kitchen, where a few familiar faces were chatting. 

He had established an objective for that night and it didn’t include him babysitting Casey; Emily would keep her from a possible anxiety attack induced by that environment, or at the very least, save her from embarrassment. That night was strictly for him, exactly like it used to be before he let his life take a radical turn and started having feelings. 

His plan was simple: have a few drinks, talk to as many girls as possible, and choose one to go home with at the end of the night. No strings attached, no feelings involved. He was sick and tired of them. They were useless and pointless and completely overrated. 

However, Derek couldn’t have imagined his plan would fail ridiculously before he even reached the second part. Not even two hours after sharing stories and cackling at his friends’ antics, he turned his head to evaluate the crowd of people around the apartment only to find a ghost from the past scrawling over the bullet points on his list.

He froze for three seconds, squeezing the can of beer in his hands as if it was made out of steel, bristling at Truman French daring to speak to Casey in the living room. 

Unwittingly, his feet propped him up and he pushed his way through the throng until he reached them, startling Casey as he draped an arm around her shoulders. Her muscles jerked, but he was too busy casting a withering look at Truman to check her reaction.

“Hey, Truman,” he greeted sarcastically. "Excuse the language, but what the fuck are you doing here?"

Truman gave him a derisive smile and the urge to strangle him was so strong that Derek clenched his jaw. 

"I was visiting my parents and Connor invited me over. Didn't think I'd run into you guys here."

"Yeah, neither did we. Can't believe my night is ruined."

Truman risked a look at Casey and Derek felt his own body scooting closer to her as a natural reaction. She was still as rigid under his touch, but he didn’t know whether it was due to the uncomfortableness of the situation or the physical contact itself.

"Oh, come on. I thought we were cool."

Derek deepened his voice, devoid of any humor. "We were never cool. You're a son-of-a-bitch."

Truman poked the inside of his cheek with the tip of his tongue, visibly irked. "Alright." He faked a polite chuckle. "Had too much already?"

"No, I’m sober. Thank your lucky stars for that, because if I wasn’t I'd be punching you right about now."

"Derek." Casey put a hand to his chest, probably in an attempt to refrain him from giving up on self-control and connecting his fist to Truman’s face. He would love to do that. He had been dreaming about that opportunity for months now and if his appearance at that party wasn’t a message from the universe, he didn’t know what it was. 

"It's fine," she said, weakly.

"No, it's not _fine_ ," he objected, stepping away from her to level his eyes to Truman’s, who lifted his chin to establish a sense of haughtiness. "I told you once that no one treats Casey that way and you went there and did it again. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Derek," Casey repeated, this time a little louder. She didn’t sound annoyed, but rather fearful. 

"Listen, man, I don't want to fight, okay? That was a long time ago. I know I was wrong and I apologized.” His eyes fell on Casey. “She understands."

Derek scoffed. "Oh, you apologized. That's supposed to make it all better?" 

"It was all I could do. I'm not proud of what I did."

"Congrats,” he jeered, smacking Truman’s shoulder with a little more strength than intended. The other raised his eyebrows at the movement. “Do you want a medal for doing the very least?"

"Derek, what's your problem? The only person who should be mad at me is Casey and she forgave me."

"Well, Casey is a much better person than me. I see your game, French. You have the nerve to hit on her after everything you did?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

"No, you don't. You can turn around right now and get the fuck out of here," he retorted, whirling his finger around in the air to point at the door. 

Truman stepped closer to him, menacingly. "I don't want to get out of here."

"Then stay the fuck away from Casey."

"I don't want to do that either."

"I guess she decides that."

Derek felt a hand on his shoulder and looked down to see Casey staring at him with a placating expression. 

“It’s fine, Derek. Really.” She glanced at Truman. “We were just talking.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together, looking at her as if she had grown a second head. _She’s not buying into this fuck’s lies, is she?_ He looked at Truman and the triumphant grin he exhibited made his body simmer with a mix of anger and frustration. 

"See?” he nearly gloated. “There's no harm. We're just two single people talking."

"She's not single," he blurted out, struggling to keep his hand from covering his mouth like a kid who had revealed a secret they swore to keep. 

He could feel Casey’s eyes searching for his face with what would probably look like confusion, but there was nothing he could do after the words came out of his lips. He bit the tip of his tongue until it started to hurt. 

"Oh?" Truman visibly jerked back, eyeing Casey, whose gaze was still solely focused on Derek. "You mean...?" He drew an invisible line with his finger that linked both of them.

He had no idea why his heart was loudly hammering inside his chest. He had done worse while keeping his heartbeat as steady as it would be during his sleep. But he wasn’t good under pressure— _no shit_?—and he decided he wouldn’t be held accountable for what escaped his lips afterwards.

"Yeah."

He quickly pulled Casey into his side, slinging his arm over her shoulders again. As a secret coward, he wouldn’t look at her just yet. He would stick to the impromptu plan, as ridiculous as it sounded, and if she chose to end the show, he wouldn’t blame her.

Truman narrowed his eyes at him and shook his head very slowly. "I don't believe it." 

"Guess who doesn't give a shit?"

_Not you. Definitely not you._

He could now hear his heart pounding against his ears. When he was eight, a friend from school dared him to shove a bead up his nose and his idiot self did it, having to be taken to the ER right after. Derek thought this was even stupider than that. 

"Is that true, Casey?" Truman asked, gawking at her.

Derek felt her stiffening under his arm once again and finally dared to look at her. Her eyes were fixated on the boy, her face morphed into an expression he couldn’t read. She was trying to cover up whatever feeling was nearly sending her body into collapse.

"Yes," she confirmed, much to Derek’s surprise. 

"I mean..." Truman shifted his gaze between them. "You're like... siblings." 

" _Step_ ," Derek hastened to correct him. " _Step_ -siblings."

 _Why is it so hard for people to understand that?_ It bothered him immensely that most people didn’t know the difference between sharing blood and sharing a house. 

"Right, but..." Truman’s eyes flickered to Casey again. It was like he could see she would break if he pressured her just a tad more. "Are you okay with this?" His tone suggested a slight disgust and it wasn’t helping Derek with sticking with the plan of not breaking his face. 

"Hey, what's going on here?" Sam asked, sidling up to them with Emily right behind him. 

"Nothing," Derek answered quickly, adamant about not spreading that story to anyone else. _Especially_ his friends. 

But he noticed Emily’s sharp eyes analyzing his arm around Casey with intense interest and he just knew Truman would seize the opportunity to destroy his narrative with great joy. 

He rapidly contemplated his friends’ reaction to the revelation and concluded that he wasn’t ready to be looked at with the same disgust Truman was showing. Hell, he was worried about _Casey_ looking at him with disgust. 

“I didn't know your friend had invited Truman," Derek mentioned, trying to hide the contempt in his voice. 

"I thought we were all cool?" Sam guessed, a little uncertain. 

"Derek’s holding grudges," Truman said with a grin that made Derek’s blood boil. "Apparently because I was hitting on his girlfriend?" 

"His _girlfriend_?" Sam echoed, looking at Derek. But he was occupied testing his abilities to blow people’s brains up with his eyes. Meaning Truman’s.

"Yeah, you didn't know?" Truman frowned, faking surprise. His eyes met Derek’s. "That's weird. Why wouldn't your best friend know you're dating Casey?" 

Derek ground his jaw, regretting the decision to keep his composure and not throw Truman off the balcony when he had the chance. _Is it too late for that?_

He felt Casey’s hand slide up his back and hid his surprise as he glanced at her. She was looking at the floor. He wasn’t sure he was in the position to expect anything from her, but he really wasn’t expecting her to participate in the fiction he had created in front of their friends.

“Because we didn't tell anyone," Derek finally said, returning his attention to Truman with hostility. "Thanks for ruining that as well, by the way."

Emily’s voice squeaked when she let out a loud, “Wait, _what_?”

“It’s too late and I’m too drunk to trust my own ears,” Sam said, with a chuckle. “Can anyone confirm that French just said Casey and Derek are together?”

“ _Me_. I can confirm it,” Emily replied, grabbing Sam’s arm with both her hands enthusiastically.

Derek frowned at the seemingly cheerful smile she had plastered on her lips. He hadn’t thought this through— _oh, you don’t say, fucking idio_ t—but even if he had, he wouldn’t have been able to consider the mess he would make taking into account the fact that Emily was his ex. And Casey’s best friend. And Sam was _Casey’s_ ex. And _his_ best friend.

_We could go on Dr. Phil. Does he still have that show?_

“Is this real?” Emily asked, looking between them with a hopeful expression. “Oh, my God, I was right.” She smacked Sam on the arm. “I was right!”

“I heard you,” he chuckled, setting his eyes on Derek. "I can't fucking believe it."

Casey’s hand was clenched around the fabric of the back of his shirt now and he cleared his throat. There was heat rising under his skin.

Casey looked at Emily, puzzled. “What do you mean ‘you were right’?” 

He glared at Emily subtly, censoring her silently. The speech she had given him the day they broke up was still engraved into his brain and he wasn’t sure it would ever be erased. 

_Jesus Christ. I’m sweating. Why am I sweating?_

Emily pursed her lips and shook her head, looking at Truman. “I think the real question is what is Truman doing here?" 

Truman snickered. "Is this a complot?"

“ _Again_ ,” Sam began, “weren’t we cool with him?”

“No, we weren’t,” Emily retorted, punching his arm. 

Sam hissed. “Why are you hitting me? This is not my party.”

Derek sighed, practically feeling the embarrassment emanating from Casey. He was equally affected by his own stupidity. 

“Feel free to find your way out. Come on, Case.” He turned around with her and frantically calculated his next move, refusing to acknowledge the consequence his lie could possibly bring. 

“Hey, wait,” Emily called after them, and Derek let out a haggard sigh. 

Casey stopped and he had to take a step back. 

“You can’t just drop a bomb like that and walk out. I need answers," Emily demanded, although her expression denoted amusement.

Casey shook her head. “Em, this isn’t what—”

“Emily, there are more important matters right now," Derek cut her off, looking pointedly at her. 

She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, like me talking to my best friend." She grabbed Casey’s hand and smiled defiantly at him. "Excuse me."

Casey cast one last puzzled look his way before letting herself be dragged by his infuriating ex. _So much for not caring about Casey and leaving with another girl tonight_. Sometimes he thought his talent for self-sabotaging should grant him a place in the Guinness World Record book.

He made his way to the balcony, sliding the glass door shut to be alone with his thoughts, but he heard it being opened five seconds later to his best friend, who had somehow found time to snag a joint in the middle of the commotion. 

Sam offered him the cigar, but he refused with a swing of his head, turning to lean his folded arms on the railing of the balcony. 

“So...” Sam began, standing next to him. “Can’t say I didn’t see it coming.”

“What are you talking about?" 

Sam shrugged, turning his head to exhale the smoke. "Don't play dumb with me, D. I'm stoned, but I can see your bullshit from kilometers away." 

"Let me rephrase that: _what the fuck are you talking about_?" 

"Dude,” Sam flexed the word, turning his palms upwards in a gesture that suggested obviousness. “Your obsession with Casey? I knew it was only a matter of time before you two started dating in college."

"I wasn't obsessed with Casey," he was quick to defend himself, which ended up sounding like a lie. Because deep down, he knew it was. 

"Right, sorry. I mean you are obsessed with her." 

"I swear to God I'll throw you off this balcony."

"No, you won't. You love me." He tapped Derek on the shoulder with a smile on his face. "It's okay, you know. I wouldn't judge you."

"Judge me for _what_?"

"For being with her."

Derek sighed deeply, rubbing his palms across his face. "For fuck’s sake."

"No, listen to me. I knew something was up. I knew you guys were friends even if you denied it and I think that you were afraid that I'd judge you because you were supposed to hate her or something or that you're too cool for her. But that's not true, you know? Casey's pretty cool. And she's hot," he added. "So no judgment here."

The witty remark was dancing on Derek’s tongue, but he held back for a second, secretly enjoying the fact that his friend hadn’t pointed out the fact they were step-siblings as a reason for them not to be together. Not that it helped. Nothing would ever happen. It was not like he wanted something to happen, anyway.

“Thank you for that descriptive speech," Derek quipped. "But you're tripping. _Literally_."

Sam burst out in laughter as if he had just heard the funniest joke in his life.

"I didn't tell you because it's not true," he revealed, averting his eyes to the street below. "I just said I was her boyfriend so Truman would leave her alone. And everything you said is bullshit, just so you know."

"And I'm the prime minister. _Wait_ , it's not real?" He turned his body to his friend, leaning his elbow on the railing. "What the fuck, D? And why is everyone suddenly hating on Truman? I don't understand."

"He's a son-of-a-bitch, that's why."

"But didn't Casey forgive him? I thought their second breakup was mutual because of distance or some shit? She said that, didn't she?"

Derek clasped his hands together, flexing his fingers until his knuckles turned white. "That was her version until I got it out of her months later.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam knitting his brows together in confusion. “Look, this is her thing, I’m not going to tell you. Just trust my word when I say he’s a fucking ass."

That quelled Sam for a moment. Derek peered at him to ascertain he hadn’t entered his own dimension and abandoned reality, because it happened quite frequently when he smoked weed. But his friend seemed moderately alert, only musing over what he had just said. 

“Can I just say something?” he said, taking two reasonably long puffs before dropping his joint. “The last time we spoke on the phone, you told me you willingly left a hot girl at the bar to go to Casey’s dorm when she called you.”

Derek never regretted something as much in his life as telling Sam that. Except for telling Truman he was dating Casey, of course. Nothing would ever top that. 

"Well, she was crying. I'm not a monster. I thought she was in trouble."

"And she wasn't."

"Nope." 

On the occasion, Ivy had borrowed her computer and accidentally deleted a project she had taken a whole month to put together, which couldn’t be found in the trash. When he arrived at her dorm, she was eating ice cream in her oversized hoodie like she was wallowing after a breakup and he couldn’t help but laugh at her dramatic misery. The bar was forgotten. The girl was forgotten. They spent an entire night looking up YouTube tutorials to recover files.

“And you didn’t think to ask, didn’t even consider staying with that girl and _then_ going to Casey.”

He rolled his eyes. “Again, she was fucking sobbing on the phone.” 

“I’m sorry, that only proves my point. You chose to _stay_ with Casey when she was _crying_. You hate tears. If anything, you’d be staying away from her for weeks just to be sure she had cried all the tears.”

Derek rolled his eyes, trying to play it off when he knew Sam was right. The worst part was that he didn’t mind. Her tears bothered him and the drama of it all was definitely nonsensical, but then he snatched her ice cream and grabbed her spoon to eat it and suddenly she wasn’t crying anymore. She was laughing and he was rejoicing in the fact that he was responsible for it.

“When was the last time you got laid?"

Derek steered back. "Why is that relevant?"

Sam threw a knowing look at him. "You know why."

He wasn’t answering that question, both out of pride and shame. He tried. He had one night stands. But when it was over and he walked back to his place in the middle of the night, he felt like peeling out his own skin to punish himself for not being able to get her out of his system.

"Yeah, you’re fucked," Sam said.

"With friends like you? Absolutely."

"You know what I meant. And if you want my opinion..."

"I didn't when you started giving it before, and I still don't."

"...you need to grow the hell up.” His voice became stern and his eyes more focused. “We're not teenagers anymore, man. You’re an adult dealing with your fucking adult feelings. So deal with them." 

Derek felt a mocking smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Sam took a deep breath, vexed by the conversation.

"What, you're mad at me now?"

"I'm entitled to. You really get on my nerves sometimes. And I need some chips. _Now_." 

He simply turned around and left, finally rendering Derek his moment of solitude. Only he didn’t want to be alone anymore, because Sam’s words were echoing in his mind like it was a hollow box. 

He didn’t need a lecture when he knew the subject by heart. He had feelings. There was no point in denying them. He acknowledged them. And he hated them. But they were there. 

Yet he knew he couldn’t tell Casey. It went against every law of the universe; they were destined to be mere binary stars, orbiting around each other without ever colliding. He had another plan—and by now he should know he didn’t have the talent of making up plans and sticking to them.

He just needed time. Feelings could disappear. And if they didn’t, he had another talent. Far better than coming up with plans and lists: he knew how to lie like no one else. He would keep it to himself and Casey would never know.

Sam was right. He was completely fucked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you for all the kind words and kudos left in the previous chapter, it put a big smile on my face!  
> Writing a male character's POV is a big challenge for me, but I hope you guys liked this one ❤️


	3. Of Guilt and Dark Houses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TRIGGER WARNING: Sexual Harassment]  
> Stay safe and enjoy your reading ❤️

_“And if I've been feeling heavy_

_You take me from the dark_

_Your arms they keep me steady_

_So nothing could fall apart [...]_

_Now my heart is ready to burst_

_'Cause I feel like I'm ready for love”_

_(Yours - Ella Henderson)_

Casey

Casey wasn’t very good at processing emotions. They often tended to mix into one another, creating too great a chaos for her to be able to discern them. There was a jumble of feelings circulating inside her body, like a wild current bumping against her heart, sending it into a frenzied rhythm. 

She didn’t like to curse, but the only words possible to make justice to that moment were ‘ _what the fuck just happened_?’

Emily practically pushed her into the first room she found available in the apartment, which, she noticed a little too slowly due to the shock, wasn’t exactly available. There were two girls kissing passionately near a messy bed and she only had time to register her friend kindly asking them to leave. 

“ _So_ …” Emily drawled, grabbing Casey’s hands to beam at her. “Why didn't I know about that? How did it happen? Will I ever forgive you for not calling me the _second_ it happened?"

"Em—"

"Don't 'Em' me," she chided in a comic way, with a wag of her head. "This is big. Huge. What’s bigger than that? _Gigantic_."

"Did you smoke?"

"No!" She shook her head defensively. “When were you going to tell me, Casey? Don’t tell me you were waiting for us to see each other in person, because we were together for at least two hours before Truman cornered you and you didn’t say a thing!"

The genuine disappointment in her voice and expression made Casey pause for a second.

“Why aren’t you more upset about all of this?"

Emily frowned. "Why would I be upset?"

"Because he's your ex?"

Recognition dawned on her face, as if she hadn’t remembered the brief period in which she and Derek nurtured a relationship up until that moment. They didn’t talk much about the breakup—Emily said they wouldn’t be able to keep dating long distance and the conversation was over. Casey still punished herself for feeling relief when her best friend told her the news. She knew the relationship was bound to end and didn’t want Emily to get hurt in the process.

She fully understood Derek’s wrath when he found out about her dating Sam all those years ago. There was something weird and annoying about seeing him with her best friend. Like it was against the rules—what rules? She didn’t know. It was just wrong. 

“Oh, God,” Casey whimpered, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even stop to think about how you’d feel—”

“I feel very good, thank you,” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “Derek’s my _ex_. In the _past_. That was a long time ago."

"No, it wasn't. It was like a year ago.”

“What I said. A long time ago.”

“Right, but if you still like him, I guarantee you—”

"God, of course not, Casey!" She rolled her eyes. "I'm over him. I was over him before I dumped him."

"Wait, you dumped him?" she echoed, widening her eyes. "What the hell? I thought you both decided that you couldn't do long distance? That's what you told me!"

Emily didn’t even have the decency to feign an apologetic look. "Ah, it wasn't a big deal.” She waved her hand in the air. “I just didn't want Derek to feel bad about the whole thing."

"Oh, right, because his ego can't be crushed."

"No, because you were mainly the cause of it."

" _What?_ "

Emily swung her head from side to side, holding Casey’s arms with an alarmed look. “I didn’t mean it like you ruined it. That came out wrong.” She sighed, withdrawing her hands. "I wasn't stupid, Casey. I knew he didn't like me."

" _Of course he did_!"

"Okay, I'm not saying he didn't _like_ me. He just didn't... like me the way one should like their girlfriend. He wanted a way out. He needed a date for that prom and he wanted a way out."

"A way out of _what_?"

Emily stared at her softly. "His feelings, Casey."

Casey felt her heart plummet down to her feet just to get back up her throat and nearly suffocate her. “D-don’t be stupid,” she sputtered.

"You didn't see it, Case. You're so smart, but you're dumb as fuck when it comes to feelings."

She gasped. "Hey!"

"Sorry, bad wording. You're oblivious as hell? Is that better?"

"No, it's not better."

"Well, it’s true,” she insisted, shrugging. “He tried his best to be subtle. Our prom basically consisted of us talking by the snack table while he pretended to be interested in what I was saying because his eyes kept going to you and Truman."

Her heart clenched painfully. Why was her body responding to the meager possibility that Derek could somehow care more about her than what he let himself show? 

“That was the first red flag, but I waited. I don’t know why, I guess I just wanted to see for how long he would try to keep the act,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly, as if she wasn’t talking about what should have been a painful breakup. “I actually felt bad when we sat down to talk. You know, when I called him over to break up.”

Casey felt slightly dizzy; she was trying to manage her emotions at the same time her mind was attempting to recall the day of the breakup. Emily had called her later that same day to deliver the news. And she remembered how Derek blatantly avoided her for two weeks straight after it; only at the time, she didn’t think too much of it. It made sense that he wouldn’t want to face her if Emily had spilled all that nonsense onto him.

“He was genuinely surprised. I really think he had no idea what he was doing. Or what he was feeling.” Emily chuckled at the memory. “He said I was crazy, of course. But I swear to you, I’d never seen him so nervous in my entire life. He didn’t talk to me for a few days after that.”

“He didn’t talk to me as well,” Casey revealed, “and I can’t blame him if you really said all that bullshit.”

Emily frowned. “ _Bullshit_? The only _bullshit_ in this situation was Derek telling me I was seeing things when you two are _literally_ dating now.”

"My God, we're _not_ dating, Emily!" Casey snapped, making her jerk back, brows drawing together. 

"What?"

"Truman just... _assumed_. Derek was trying to get him out of my way, but I don’t know what he was thinking. I don’t know what I was thinking confirming this stupid story," she added, frustrated. 

Emily blinked, her shoulders slumping. "So you're _not_ dating?"

"No. It’s beyond me how you’d even _believe_ that."

“I...” Emily faltered, letting her expression twist into perplexity. “Okay, explain that to me.”

Casey sighed impatiently. "I just did."

"No, I mean... does Derek know what Truman did to you? The second time, I mean."

Her gaze fell on a very suggestive poster on the wall behind Emily in an attempt to disguise the sudden feeling of shame coursing through her body. She barely had time to process Truman’s presence at that party—and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it after not seeing him for a long time—and she definitely didn’t want to recover grievous memories that had been locked away in the back of her mind. 

“Yeah,” she confessed. “The subject came up and I ended up telling him. I really regret it."

“Oh.” Emily raised her eyebrows in honest awe. "You didn't even tell your _mom_. Or Lizzie. Or anyone besides me."

“Don’t make it sound like a big deal. It’s not like I told him willingly, it just came out.”

“There must be some psychological explanation for something like that. Your subconsciousness is trying to tell you something.”

Casey let out an annoyed sigh and turned to leave, but Emily blocked her way before she could reach the doorknob.

“What are we, five?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you hear what I just told you?”

“Yeah. Like I said, _bullshit_.”

“No, not _bullshit_.”

“Emily,” she raised her voice a bit, grabbing her friend’s arms to get her attention, “Derek hated me in high school. You were there, you saw the whole thing. We were constantly fighting. Whatever you think you saw, it’s not true. Let’s drop it now, okay?”

“There’s a fine line between fighting and flirting with you two.”

Casey gasped, her hands dropping to her sides. “ _Flirting_?”

“Yes,” she agreed with her head, crossing her arms. “ _Flirting_. Both of you.”

Casey shook her head. “Well, I hate to agree with Derek, but you’re absolutely crazy.”

“Look, just...” Emily sighed, frantically looking for the right words to say. She fixed her eyes on Casey and softened her expression. “I’m just finally in a good place in my life, you know? I’ve got rent to pay and lots of bills and, _God_ , being an adult sucks... but... I’ve been seeing someone.” 

Casey felt her lips instantly turning into a cheerful smile. “Really?”

Emily smiled sheepishly. “Yeah. I was going to wait until it was serious to tell you. Which I think _will be_. Hopefully.” She crossed her fingers. “And he looks at me the way I want to be looked at, you know? Out there, I was watching Derek from afar before. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. And it dawned on me that it never changed. He still looks at you the same way. I just want you to be happy, Case, and I don’t think that will happen until you stop pushing your feelings away and pretending they don’t exist.”

Her heart started beating violently against her ribs, responding to Emily’s speech the way she was prohibiting her body from doing. It shouldn’t matter to her. It shouldn’t affect her stupid heart if Emily, her slightly drunk best friend, had conjured some story about Derek… _liking_ her? _Is that what she’s saying_? There were too many thoughts inside her head to focus on the moral of her story now. 

She wasn’t pushing feelings away—there _were_ no feelings. _Maybe_ she had developed a crush on him, something she would never fully admit to herself, but that was it. He had replaced his insults and his pranks with lighthearted jokes and occasional heartfelt smiles that made her heart flutter and it confused her for a brief period of time. 

Casey’s voice was serious, yet soft when she said, “Let it go, okay? _Please_."

"Do you like him, Case?" Emily insisted. 

Casey groaned. "No, I don't like him. Not in _that_ way, at least. So drop it and let's go back." 

Her tone must have been determined enough to resonate with Emily because she didn’t stop her from opening the door and stepping out into the hall. The music reached Casey's ears again, throbbing against her head, anticipating a headache. She would’ve made a beeline for the front door to escape the suddenly unbearable space if it wasn’t for Derek standing at the end of the hall, hands tucked inside his pockets, eyes on her with a deadpan expression.

He motioned with his chin for her to follow him and she traipsed after him onto the balcony of the apartment. She heard him shut the door behind her, but didn’t turn to look at his face. She could already feel her cheeks suffusing with color. 

“I was trying to help," he explained, as if she had asked him a question. She had a plethora of them, but couldn’t verbalize a single one. 

“How is telling Truman that you're my boyfriend going to help?" She noticed she sounded angry. _Am I angry_? How was she supposed to decode emotions when the state of shock he had left her in was still actively overwhelming her body?

"He won't try to harass you anymore, at the very least?" he replied with obviousness. She could practically see the skeptical look on his face. "That was the first thing that popped into my head."

She gathered the remnants of sanity still left on her body and slowly turned around to face him. Derek was observing her with curiosity and a dose of apprehension.

"Maybe filter your thoughts before you speak them aloud?”

A crease appeared on his forehead and the corners of his mouth twitched with the words he was suffocating. Derek shuffled on his feet. 

"You were enjoying that?" he asked bitterly, gesturing at the party without breaking visual contact. "You were _actually_ enjoying talking to _fucking_ Truman?" His voice grew a little louder and a vein popped on his neck with the strength he was putting into keeping his composure. 

"Derek, why are you so mad?" she asked softly, thrown by how affected he seemed. 

He deflected the question by darting his eyes to something above her head. 

“I wasn't necessarily enjoying it. I was... I don’t know, trying to be civil. You just didn't have to throw a fit."

He laughed humorlessly, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes flickered back to her face. "You're going to make me sound like the wrong one here?"

"That's not what I said. I just don't understand why you're so upset about it."

He wetted his lips, his face morphing into an expression of incredulity as he turned to the side and grabbed the railing of the balcony until the veins in his hands were visible. 

“I can’t fucking believe you right now,” he uttered.

The soft spring breeze raked through the strands of his hair, plastering a few to his forehead. She took a step closer to him, warily.

“Are you mad at me?"

"No, I'm not mad at you, Casey," he retorted, and although he _sounded_ mad, she knew he was telling the truth. 

"Okay, then what's really going on? This can’t be just about Truman."

She noticed his back tensing up and meekly waited for him to take a deep, haggard breath and set his eyes on her again. “This fuck cheated on you. _Twice_. He tried to—" He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he stared at the railing of the balcony. “He tried to _force_ you and when _that_ didn’t work he fucked another girl. You _do_ remember that, right?"

The clarification wouldn’t so much as draw a shameful look from her if it wasn’t for Derek’s demeanor as he gave it. After prom, she naively—some might say idiotically—gave Truman another chance, only to catch him in bed with another girl at a party they attended a week after. 

He had dragged her to a bedroom first, in an attempt to convince her to have sex with him, and Casey came close to slap him when he slid his hand under her skirt without warning. She knew he wasn't sober, so she tried to convince herself he was only acting under the influence of alcohol. But his hands kept roaming around her body, unwanted and unasked. He didn't stop the first two times she asked him to, instead assuring her that she would like what he had in mind. And when she called his name a third time, he sighed and slammed his hands against the wall behind her, making her gasp.

"I'm getting tired of this, Casey," he had said, and she specifically remembered how his eyes seemed to darken when he leaned his face closer to hers. His tone was unusually frightening and she gulped. "You tease me and then you won't put out. Are you fucking with me?"

She was lucky a drunk guy opened the door only to pass out on the floor three seconds later, interrupting them; she was lucky that nameless boy had saved her from something worse. But the sour taste of nausea mixed with shame and anger still emerged inside her when she thought about it.

She contemplated calling someone to pick her up, but the thought of sharing what had happened with anyone else made her recoil. She could have called Emily, but since she was on a date with Derek, Casey didn’t want to interrupt it— _or_ let Derek know about the situation. Thinking about it made her feel mortified.

Deciding to take a cab, she looked for the bathroom before leaving, but ended up entering another bedroom. A shirtless Truman had his legs wrapped around a naked brunette in bed. 

It took her months to be able to say it aloud to Emily because the thought of being disrespected and cheated on by the same boy twice made her feel worthless and used. It took her even longer to tell Derek, and it only came out because she couldn’t fight the tears when he was randomly joking about her ex-boyfriends—she had no idea how the subject had come up, but she remembered she was laughing until her sides hurt—and then he mentioned Truman’s name. The fun was over. Tears were itching her eyes. Derek’s face turned crimson when she was done telling him.

Now her eyes were burning with tears and her hands were tightly curled into a fist, because it had been a long time since Derek had talked to her that way. She hadn’t missed it. She hadn’t missed cruel, insensitive Derek who thought he knew better and she was merely stupid and ignorant, incapable of being left alone to make decisions.

"Don’t talk to me like I'm a fucking moron." 

She shrunk at the hostility of her own words; even Derek was visibly surprised to hear her swearing. She wasn’t one to yell expletives unless she was overwhelmed by anger.

"That's why I didn't want to tell you about Truman,” she continued, accusatory. “I _knew_ that you'd be judging me for giving him a chance because I was stupid. I _know_ I was. Don’t you think I feel worthless every time I remember that? But I didn’t know he was going to be here tonight and I didn’t know how to react when he came up to me, because, _really, how am I supposed to react to it_?” She heard her voice raising unwittingly, unable to fight the stubborn tears. “All I was trying to do was to get through the night without him ruining it!"

Derek stared at her with his lips slightly parted, a glimpse of what looked like remorse gleaming in his eyes. He swung his head very subtly.

"I don't think you're stupid," he said in a low voice. 

She ran her palms across her face, drying the tears. "Then why are you yelling at me?"

“Because it was _me_ , Casey,” he snapped, immediately regretting the terse words as he sucked in the air and rubbed his palms across his face. “Shit.”

“What?”

Derek groaned, moving closer to the railing again, although he stood still with his arms perpendicular to his sides.

"Derek," she pressed, softer.

“ _I_ was the one who told Truman to take you to that fucking prom and then you gave him a chance and he was a fucking ass again and you were suffering for weeks and never said a word."

Waves of warmth spread quickly through her body like a cup of coffee on a Winter day, waning any negative emotion in order to thoroughly enjoy the new pleasant sensation. She never thought Derek capable of feeling guilty—those were his own words, not hers—and the idea that he was experiencing the feeling because of her was entirely insane. 

_But endearing._

But insane.

“You...” she began, lifting her hand to touch his shoulder, but retreating a second later. “You’re feeling guilty?”

The silence that followed as he fought to maintain his eyes as far away from her face as possible made her search for something to say even more difficult. 

“Derek... that wasn't your fault. That’s on me."

“That’s on _him_ ,” he corrected, finally meeting her gaze.

“I know. I’m just saying I’m the one who gave him a chance in the first place. You didn’t force me to do it, Derek.” 

“Fuck, I know!” He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, a crease appearing on his forehead. “Why didn’t you call Emily that night?”

Casey swallowed. “I was... I thought about it, I just... I felt like trash. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“ _You_ didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know that. But there was nothing anyone could’ve done anyway.”

“I could’ve broken his fucking face. We could've called the cops or something. He doesn't get to do whatever he wants to you or to anyone else.”

She nodded, wincing at the memories from that night. "Nothing happened."

"Yes, it _did_. It doesn't matter if he didn't..." Derek rubbed his palms across his face, vexed. "He _touched_ you."

Casey looked away, suddenly bashful. "I don't want to..." She shook her head, lifting her eyes to him again after a brief moment. "I don't want to remember that. It was a year ago and I don't think about it anymore. At least... when he's not around."

His eyes lingered on her, probably searching for any signs of a lie. She felt strangely exposed sharing such an odd and raw conversation with Derek on someone else's balcony in the middle of the night. Casey thought that their entire relationship was as peculiar as that setting.

She touched her face again, pretending to wipe the already dried-off tears, unsure of how to handle the intensity of his gaze and the whole conversation.

“Thank you... for caring, Derek,” she said, shying away from his eyes. Dealing with his teasing was infinitely easier than dealing with that odd, soft side he was showing. 

She felt his tension even with her eyes fixed on the floor, almost preparing to hear him deny everything and come up with a lousy excuse for his behavior. But when he didn’t say anything, she looked up to see him watching her with an expression she didn’t recognize. He almost looked stunned, as if Casey’s words had helped him recognize that the guilt he felt meant he cared. 

“I know you meant well,” she resumed. “I didn’t mean to yell at you like that, I just thought you were... you were acting like you did before. And I really need... _this_ Derek.” She motioned to him, swallowing. Getting those words out was a problem; she felt insanely vulnerable. “I... appreciate it. _You_. You know?”

Her heart was beating so loudly she might as well have been running a marathon for the past hour. If she wasn’t so overwhelmed by a distinct array of emotions, she would have laughed at his expression. Derek looked unusually lost; his eyes were fixed on hers, but she could see the gears turning inside his head, trying to make sense of what was happening and figure out how he should react. But at that moment, her chest felt so full of gratitude and affection that she needed to share it; just a bit, just to let him know how much she cared about him. She wasn't sure he knew.

Apparently, he didn't.

Derek blinked out of his trance and shook his head, shifting his gaze to the glass door. “It’s fine.”

She nodded, feeling her cheeks start to burn slowly as a late effect to that odd exchange of words.

"You weren't stupid," he resumed. "You just believe in people. Which is a terrible thing to do, if you ask me."

Casey smiled. “That makes sense. You’re my success story.”

He looked at her with an arched brow, dissipating the tension as she chuckled with his firm denial, “I’m most definitely _not_.”

“I gave you the opportunity to agree with me when I said I was stupid and you didn’t take it. You _denied_ it. _Twice_.”

“I was being considerate.”

“Still an improvement.” 

His lips perked up very subtly, but he didn't give in, instead choosing to suppress a smile. 

"I, uh... I think I’m going home," she said.

Derek nodded solemnly. "Okay.”

“You don’t have to come with me.”

“If I see the rat’s face one more time, I might have to push him off this balcony. I can’t be arrested, my dad would kill me. And I'm too hot to waste my youth locked up.”

Casey couldn’t resist another smile, turning to enter the apartment again. She led the way, finding both Emily and Sam near the snack table to say goodbye. She couldn't shake the feeling of awkwardness that accompanied them like a gray cloud ready to rain down on their heads as they made their way to the car and drove home in absolute silence. 

It gave her some time to think about the eventful night. She still didn't know how she felt about Truman. Had she forgiven him? If the sour taste in her mouth and the urge to spill his drink on his expensive shirt when he appeared in front of her with a shameless lewd smile was any indication of anything, the answer was no. 

It was nearly three in the morning when they got home, making their way in with careful and soundless steps so as to not wake up their family.

 _Family._ The word instantly brought back Truman’s reaction to Derek’s lie and she almost grunted at the sight of Simon’s stroller next to the couch in the living room. A cruel reminder that, regardless of their different last names, they shared a brother. Little Simon had both hers and Derek’s DNA—or technically George’s and Nora’s, but still. 

When Nora told her about her pregnancy, Casey was thrilled. The addition of a tiny human being she already loved very deeply was more than welcome, and the smile on her mother’s face was infectious. But when she lay in bed that night, finally processing the news, a certain type of fear began to gnaw at her.

Casey had missed that house, but at the same time, she hadn’t. She didn’t want to be there being reminded that she and Derek were, in fact, family. It was so much easier in college, where they weren’t step-siblings and they could simply talk and laugh and tease each other without the weight of a brother pulling them down. 

She didn’t feel safe feeling her stomach do somersaults whenever he was too close. She didn’t feel safe when she stared at him whenever he wasn’t looking, because they weren’t in their dorm and there were other people around, ready to catch her in the act. 

“Shit,” she whispered when she reached her bedroom door, making Derek stop in his tracks to look at her.

“What?”

“What if someone heard us?”

“If we keep talking in the hall, they might.”

“Not now. I mean at the _party_.”

“So what?” 

“There might have been people there who know our parents. What if they decide to tell them? What if they gossip about it and it reaches them? What if they tell their siblings and they’re in school with _our_ siblings and then they—”

Derek grabbed her arms abruptly in order to stop her endless rant, which worked impeccably. His voice was calm when he said, “I’m pretty sure no one heard us.”

“Pretty sure isn’t sure.”

He rolled his eyes, letting go of her arms to open the door to her bedroom and signal for her to enter. Casey was so used to this kind of exchange—him trying to mediate her anxiety-induced thoughts—that she didn’t even protest.

Derek closed the door gently behind him, turning to her. 

“Truman might’ve told someone,” she said, her mind racing and working tirelessly to haunt her with the possible consequences to Truman babbling about her fake relationship to anyone who would listen. “He could call my mom. How about that?”

“He won’t call your mom, Casey.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Derek shrugged, casually leaning against her door. She ignored the rush in her chest. It was simply hard to dismiss the thoughts running inadvertently through her mind when he was standing there, blocking the only way out of her room with that infuriating smirk. 

“What good would that do? You confirmed the story. He doesn’t have anything on us. Not that he _knows_ of, at least.”

Casey slowly let out the air inside her lungs. He had a point.

“And do you really think dad and Nora are going to believe some story about me and you dating?”

“ _Emily and Sam_ did.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but paused, slamming it shut again. “Well... yeah, but... _we_ confirmed it. Sam knew it was bullshit, though.”

Casey raised her eyes to him. "Really?"

"Yeah." He wetted his lips and she took a step back instinctively. Now all she could think about was her best friend telling her how she had broken up with the boy who was staring at her, claiming he liked _her_. "Did you tell Emily the truth?"

“Yeah,” she whispered inadvertently.

Derek nodded, his eyes still roaming over her face in search of something she didn’t know what was. Her skin was already prickling from inside, like tiny points of electricity scattered across her body, preparing a wave of heat that would soon tinge her cheeks and her neck. The silence combined with the involuntary memories of Emily’s words was almost unbearable now.

“Can I ask you something?” She joined her hands in front of her body and watched as Derek straightened his body, still standing firmly by the door. “Why did you guys break up?”

The way his shoulders slumped was a clear sign that he wasn’t expecting to be asked that question, but he masked his feelings with a neutral expression. Was it too much to ask for him to express his real feelings for once?

“How is that relevant to this conversation?”

 _It isn’t._ She just needed to know. _Out of curiosity._ Or maybe it was more than that. 

“Uh... it came up when I was talking to her."

"What did she tell you?" he pried, and she noticed how he started to drum his fingers quietly against the door behind him.

Certainly, he was dreading having another awkward conversation with her, especially after whatever happened at the party between them. Casey didn't even know why she had brought the subject up, since she was certain he would never agree to discuss the completely insane reasons Emily had given him to break up.

“Nothing," she lied, cursing mentally when she felt her face flushing. She only hoped he hadn't noticed. "She never told me the whole story, actually. But today she looked a bit... weird. I was just curious.”

Derek’s gaze was insistent on her even when she stopped talking. She was earnestly considering the possibility that he was trying to intimidate her to avoid the question, but then he darted his eyes to her desk for a second and back at her. 

“It wouldn’t work out. I don’t do long distance.”

Casey held his gaze, nodding. Of course he wouldn’t confess. What was she thinking? But the urge to call him out on his blatant lie made her hands itch; she wondered what his face would look like if she told him she knew everything. Would he be able to wear another neutral mask on his face with the same ease which he lied to her?

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Derek frowned. “Why?” 

“I don’t know. You’re both my friends.”

Derek groaned under his breath, reaching behind his back to grab the doorknob while still looking at her. “I hate that word.”

“I know.”

A tiny smile appeared on his lips and he nodded one more time before turning to leave the room. 

***

It was past 8 a.m. when Nora and George finally got in the car. They were supposed to leave at 7, but amongst Edwin only remembering he hadn’t packed underwear when Lizzie was checking her own packing list, and Simon crying loudly enough to wake Marti up and only being able to calm down after Lizzie nestled him in her arms, one hour wasn’t even that much of a setback.

They would take Edwin and Lizzie to summer camp first and head to Windsor for a work fair Nora had to attend for the weekend. Which meant—

“We have the house to ourselves!” Marti yelled in sheer gleefulness, jumping on the couch the second she heard the car engine fade away.

“That doesn’t mean there won’t be rules,” Casey warned her. 

Marti pouted, falling onto her back on the couch. “We haven’t seen each other in months and this is how you treat me? I missed you, you know?”

Casey smiled, approaching the girl to pull her up by the hands. “I thought I was the dramatic one.”

Marti chuckled, jumping on the floor. “That title is still yours. I’m just a performer.”

“Okay, performer, you need to eat breakfast,” she said, gently pushing her towards the kitchen, where Derek was already perched on the counter, shoveling nearly half a pancake in his mouth. She winced at the vision. “It won’t disappear if you don’t eat it in ten seconds, you know?”

Derek made a noncommittal sound, rolling his eyes as he slid off the counter to sit in the stool and welcome Marti onto his lap. Casey couldn’t help but smile at the action; despite everything, she had always admired Derek’s behavior regarding his little sister. There was something about the way he didn’t care showing his affection or making himself look like a fool if it made Marti smile. 

Casey gave Marti a fork and sat next to them, using a plate to eat her own pancakes. It didn’t take long until Marti’s clever brain started taking advantage of their situation. 

“Dimmy’s parents are taking him to the carnival tonight,” she mentioned casually, picking a chocolate nib out of Derek’s pancake and quickly popping it into her mouth. “They said I could go.”

“Did you talk to George or to my mom?” Casey asked.

Marti batted her eyelashes innocently—as a great performer, Casey felt obligated to add—and she almost laughed at the young girl’s tactic. 

“No?”

Derek let out a breathy laugh, looking at Casey above Marti’s head. “Come on, Casey. The kid’s not like you, she likes to have fun.”

“Hey!”

Marti laughed, tugging at the sleeve of Casey’s shirt. “You could go too. There’s going to be a Ferris wheel and a rollercoaster and lots of booths to win stuff. Oh, and the haunted house,” she added, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Now you’re speaking my language,” Derek said.

“You guys can go, then,” Casey proposed. 

“ _No_ ,” Marti drawled, pouting again. Casey reckoned she would use that tactic for as long as it worked. “You have to come! You’re only staying here for a few days, we have to enjoy the time we have.”

“You heard the kid,” Derek agreed, finishing the rest of Marti’s pancake, forgotten on the plate.

Casey would rather not go. She loved the carnival with its bright lights, tasty food and cheerful visitors. There was something quaint about the place, almost cinematographic, like it was fit for a classic cult future film. She had visited the place numerous times with Emily, but never with Derek. And she was absolutely certain he would coax her into going to the haunted house.

But she gave in and gladly accepted Marti’s excited hug, mentally preparing herself for that evening. 

There wasn’t much to do around the house; it had been cleaned the day before and everything seemed to be in its place. So Casey settled down on the couch with a book in her hand while Derek and Marti sat on the floor of the living room to play a video game. 

It didn’t take more than five minutes for Casey to realize that Marti was basically Derek as a little girl. At the first threat Marti made to her brother’s character in the game, she gave up on her book to watch them battling in another dimension. She would have argued about the choice of a violent game, but she sensed her opinion wouldn’t even be acknowledged. Plus, it was extremely fun to see them both leaning forward whenever they were about to shoot someone or nibbling at their bottom lips when they were in dicey situations, mirroring each other without even realizing.

Emily texted her around 6 p.m. to say she would be at the carnival with Sam in an hour and she realized she had spent so much time in absolute idleness that she had lost track of time. She told Marti to take a shower before they left, and like a stubborn child, she didn’t want to do it. It took Derek bribing her with chocolate for her to run to the bathroom and Casey couldn’t help but think they were the worst babysitters in the entire world.

They arrived at the carnival thirty minutes later; the sun was setting on the horizon and the colorful string lights that decorated the place against the twilight made it even more magical. There was a literal crowd of people circulating in the park, from couples with kids to groups of teenagers. Casey needed a moment to assess her surroundings, smelling the air filled with popcorn and butter.

“Can we go on the Ferris wheel?” Marti asked eagerly, pointing at the gigantic ride ahead.

Derek hoisted her up by the waist with ease, placing her on his shoulders and grabbing her hands for safety. Marti giggled, turning her head from left to right to see above people’s heads. They marched to the Ferris wheel, waiting only a few minutes in line. Apparently, the rollercoaster was receiving more attention for being the only new addition to the yearly carnival. 

As they took a seat, Marti safely between them, the wheel started to move slowly and Casey gazed down below, watching all those people she had seen before turn into tiny spots that looked like ants. She could hear the screams from the rollercoaster off into the distance and the lively carnival music playing below. For a second, everything seemed peaceful and tranquil and right. Liberating. She had spent so much time focusing on projects, exams and due dates that she barely had time for herself. To breathe.

“It’s so high!” Marti exclaimed, leaning over Casey to spy the immensity below. “And pretty!”

“It’s even prettier if you’re alive,” Derek said, pulling her by the waist to sit between them again.

Casey chuckled at the adorableness of that moment. Derek didn’t know how to be a responsible adult unless it was directly connected to Marti. He pulled out a piece of gum from his pocket and Marti’s eyes lit up. 

“Der- _ek_ ,” Casey censored, “she’s had like double the amount of sugar she should have in a week.” 

“How much sugar should I have in a week?” Marti asked curiously.

“I don’t know.”

“Then how do you know I’ve had double the amount?”

Derek laughed, casting a look of amusement at Casey. “Kid’s got a point.”

Marti smiled triumphantly, popping the gum into her mouth, silently humming as she bounced in her seat with excitement. When they got down, Marti wanted to check out the booths, stopping at one that had a giant teddy bear as a prize that caught her eye. Derek caved in immediately, throwing a ball towards a pile of bottles and tumbling them down on his first try, getting the giant bear for her. 

“Marti!”

They all turned around to see Dimmy running towards him with his parents and sister behind him. The kid had certainly grown up in the past year, because he was taller than Marti now. He opened his eyes to hug Marti, who used the teddy bear as a barrier between them. 

“No invasion of privacy, Dimmy. We talked about this.”

Gerry and Linda laughed, greeting both Casey and Derek. Emily hugged them quickly, saying Sam had to go to the restroom and would be there in a few minutes. 

“Mom, Marti said we can see the whole place from the Ferris wheel!” Dimmy exclaimed, wide-eyed. “Can we go?”

“Sure.” Linda shifted her gaze to Casey and Derek. “Take some time for yourselves, enjoy the carnival. We can watch Marti.”

“Oh, we couldn’t impose—”

“That would be great!” Derek cut Casey off, receiving a glare from her. 

Linda insisted. “It’s not a problem, really. We love Marti. And, between us, it’s great that Dimmy has someone so we don’t have to go to every single attraction with him.”

Marti bounced away with her friend, handing her bear to Gerry as she would do to her own father, like he was obligated to carry her stuff around. 

Casey sighed deeply. “My God, is this what being a parent feels like? I don’t remember Lizzie ever being this agitated. Actually, _Marti_ was never this agitated.”

“Well, she’s growing up. Kids get insufferable.”

“Derek, she’s your sister.”

“You can love someone and think they’re insufferable sometimes.”

Casey’s breath hitched when he grinned; sometimes she wondered if he was even vaguely aware of the double meaning in the words he chose, especially when they were followed by that damn smile.

Emily cleared her throat and Casey looked at her. Her friend had an irritating smirk on her lips when she said, “Sam just texted me. He ran into Ralph, they’re meeting us here.”

“In the meantime...” Derek began, but before he even said another word, Casey was swinging her head in disapproval.

“Nope.”

“Oh, come on. It’s gonna be fun! You know what fun means, Casey?” he teased. “The concept might be unfamiliar to you, but I can show you.”

_Okay, he’s definitely doing it on purpose._

“What’s going to be fun?” Emily intervened, interested. 

“The haunted house,” Derek said. 

“Oh, cool! I’ve always wanted to check that out,” Emily commented. “But my parents never let me when I was a kid and whenever Casey and I came, she wouldn’t go with me.”

“Even your best friend thinks you’re lame,” Derek taunted.

“Then, by all means, you kids have fun,” Casey said impatiently. 

“This haunted house is always here. It’s tradition,” Emily mentioned. “You love tradition.”

“It’s _literally_ tradition,” Derek agreed. “ _Nothing_ ever changes. I’ve been there at least a hundred times, I know every single part of that house. I’ll let you know when scary things are coming,” he added, rolling his eyes.

She was about to reply when Emily pointed out their friends were approaching. She looked up from her phone to see Sam and Ralph walking towards them, in friendly conversation with someone else. Casey squinted her eyes to detect the person until her fairly thin figure and blond hair became recognizable. 

“Is that Sally?” Emily mused. “He didn’t tell me she was coming.”

Casey silently cursed at the pang in her stomach. She adored Sally; there was nothing to be said about the girl that could have any negative connotation. She was sweet, caring and a good friend. 

And she was the girl that Derek was in love with before college.

The one he only broke up with because of distance.

The one he almost left town for and probably never stopped loving.

 _So what?_ The question reverberated in her mind like a blinking light on a fire alarm, insistent and vivid. She fought the deep urge to turn her head and watch Derek’s reaction, even though she was positively sure his expression wouldn’t reveal much. 

Casey pushed the incessant twinge in her heart away and rehearsed a smile, keeping it until Sally was close enough to hug her. 

“You look so pretty!” she said with a genuineness that almost made Casey scream. Sally was too nice for her to even try to find reasons to dislike her. _Why would you, anyway?_

“Thank you,” Casey smiled. “So do you. I love the hair,” she added, her eyes raking over Sally’s shorter hair, now reaching her shoulders. It was nearly annoying how beautiful she looked.

“Yeah, it looks amazing,” Emily agreed.

Sally thanked her and moved to greet Derek. Casey watched him smile at her before Ralph blocked her vision with his arms wide open. He looked sturdier than she remembered, but the charming and innocent smile still reminded her of the same old Ralph. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground, making her let out a yelp. 

“Casey, it’s so good to see you!” he exclaimed, putting her down to observe her with a pensive look. “I kind of thought you would’ve grown up a little bit.”

“That’s for kids, Ralph,” Sam reminded him with a pat on his back. 

Ralph shrugged and turned to hug Emily, who didn’t appreciate his gesture as much as Casey, but endured it nonetheless.

“Why weren’t you at the party last night if you were in London?” Emily asked as he greeted Derek with a side hug. 

Ralph frowned. “There was a party? And no one invited me?”

“Didn’t you say you arrived this morning?” Sam pried. 

“Oh, yeah.” Ralph chuckled, tapping his forehead with his palm. “I’m meeting some friends for spring break on Thursday. My grandma called and I had to see how she was doing before I hit the road, you know?”

“Too bad you didn’t come a day earlier.”

“Oh, man, I can’t believe I missed this party with you guys,” Ralph lamented. 

“That can be fixed,” Sally said, beaming at the group excitedly.

But Casey wasn’t listening anymore. Sally’s voice sounded muffled, as if she was speaking underwater. But she was on dry land, right next to Derek, and Casey couldn’t help but notice how good they looked together. It was always there, ever since Derek fell in love with her. They fit. They were both attractive, naturally charismatic and cool—each in their own way. 

_Their babies would be beautiful._

_What the hell, Casey?_

_Casey?_

“Casey?” 

She startled, rousing from her reverie to focus Sally’s face. “Hmm?” 

Her friends laughed in unison, as if on cue, and she could already feel her cheeks flushing. 

“What are we laughing at?” Ralph asked in the midst of his own chuckle. 

“At Casey, _as usual_ ,” Derek sneered. 

Sally explained. “I was just asking if you guys want to come to a party my friend’s hosting tomorrow. Ralph was saying he missed the one you had yesterday, so it’d be nice if we could all go.”

“Oh.” She directed her gaze to Derek, who raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure, we’re babysitting Marti. I can stay with her, though.”

“ _Or_ we could leave Marti with Emily’s parents—”

“They’re not babysitters, Derek.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind,” Emily interceded. “But can we do this later? Right now I really want to check that haunted house.”

“Oh, cool,” Sally smiled. “I love haunted houses.”

 _Of course you do._ Casey repressed a sigh and ignored the way her heart clenched at the sight of Derek and Sally walking side by side and engaging in conversation as they headed to the haunted house. 

“They’re just talking,” Emily said, hooking her arm around Casey’s. 

“I didn’t say anything. Why would I even say anything? I don’t care.” 

_Good job, that did not sound like a lie at all._

“Sure,” she said, her voice filled with debauchery.

“I _don’t_.”

Emily sighed, peeking above her shoulder to measure the distance between them and the boys. Sam and Ralph had stayed a little behind, talking loud enough for her to know they were discussing music. 

“You were staring,” she whispered. “The whole time she was talking, you were full-on staring at him.”

Casey gaped at her, feeling her heart complain inside her chest, doing its own riot. Was she being obvious? _Obvious about what?_ That couldn’t prove anything but the fact that she was slightly bothered by Sally’s presence. Perhaps she was only acting out of fear that Derek would cling to his old feelings only to be left alone again. 

_Who are you kidding?_

“I was _not_!”

“Casey, _please._ And don’t worry, no one noticed. By the time Sally was calling you, you were just staring off into the distance like a crazy person.”

Casey pulled her arm away from Emily, crossing them over her chest like a child would do to their friend for using the crayon they wanted. Emily giggled, hurrying her steps to reach Derek and Sally. She watched with curiosity as her friend persuaded Sally into following her inside the house, leaving Derek behind. 

Casey cursed at Emily under her breath and noticed Derek had slowed down his pace to wait for her. She had her eyes glued to the house at the distance; its front seemed to be directly taken out of a classic old horror movie. Dead trees and scary figures were planted in the barren ground surrounding the place, precariously illuminated. She stopped walking before they reached the garden, letting Ralph and Sam pass by to enter the house.

Derek stood beside her, slinging one arm over her shoulders. It was only occurring to her that he had been touching her more frequently than usual in the last couple of days.

“Come on. You have to actually enter.”

“I heard that one before.”

He gently pushed her ahead, accompanying her in slow steps; she was acutely aware of his arm still firm around her shoulders. A group of friends walked by them, chatting eagerly, and Casey was slightly annoyed at how unbothered they all looked to be actively and deliberately choosing to be scared.

"I hate this," she whined.

"It's just a dark house."

" _You_ and a dark house. Not a good combination," she declared, deciding that he was most likely already scheming to scare her more than the actors inside that place would.

"What, are you afraid of being in the dark with me?" he taunted.

She hated the fact that despite confirming that Derek was, indeed, teasing her with his words, she still blushed violently. Inappropriately, the only thing on her mind was Emily saying there was a fine line between fighting and flirting regarding them both.

"Can you stop that?" she chided, wriggling her shoulders to get his arm off her. 

Derek chuckled. "Relax, Case. I'm just kidding." 

She could already see the darkness that engulfed the room hidden behind the front door of the house, that had been left ajar. Anxiety began to cripple inside her as Derek pushed the door open, making it creak loudly. 

"Why did I let you talk me into it?"

"Because I have influence over you." 

Casey would've glared at him if it wasn't for the fear prodding at her the moment she stepped inside the house. She hated being scared. She hated horror movies or anything that could be considered remotely scary. Her instincts begged her to go back. 

"Did Emily tell you that?"

"Yeah, I can't believe you think you can't be influenced by me," he said, smugly. 

She swept the room with her eyes, taking notice of as many details as possible. The walls were stained with what looked like fake blood and the only source of light was a blinking lamp on the other side of the room. Old, dusty furniture completed the scenario, some coated with white fabric, creating a bizarre atmosphere. Looking ahead, she saw a long dark hall, with an abundance of unidentified objects hanging from the ceiling. 

“Oh, shit.”

Derek laughed through the nose beside her. 

“It’s not funny,” she complained.

“I beg to differ. I should get you riled up more often just to hear you curse.”

“Screw you, Derek.”

She could hear the faint sounds of gears as they made their way to the hall; Casey noticed her pulse speeding up, trying to remind herself that the sounds were her ally. Everything inside that house was either a bunch of machines or actors playing a part. 

“Can we talk a little? If we talk, I might not get so scared,” she said.

“Fine, but you should know there’s a creepy guy coming your way, so don’t—” 

"Shit," she cursed, dodging when a man in ragged clothes and a huge bloody scar painted on his face lunged towards her. She accidentally bumped into Derek, who was already laughing at her, completely unaffected. 

"—freak out." 

She stopped by the third door on the hall, leaning one hand on the wall for support while the other rose to her chest. Her heart was beating so fast she was scared it would find its way out on its own. A screech came from one of the doors and she looked around frantically, trying to detect its source. 

“Come on,” Derek said, motioning with his chin towards the end of the hall. “Now you know what to wait for.”

The screech grew louder as they resumed their steps; she thought it was at least decent of Derek to not complain about her sluggishness. Casey’s eyes kept sliding from left to right, assessing every part of that hall in an attempt to anticipate jumpscares. 

“Sorry Emily stole your partner,” she said, gazing up to see chains tingling creepily above their heads. Whispers began to surround them, overlapping in a sinister chant. 

“My partner? I didn’t know we were doing partners.”

“I thought you probably wanted to catch up?”

She jumped when Derek grabbed her arm and traded sides with her at the exact same time a lady with black demon eyes stepped out of one of the rooms, screaming. She swallowed, trying to breathe normally.

“There’s not much catching up to do,” he finally answered, his tone slightly humored. 

Casey couldn’t help but notice they were closer now; every time they took another step, her hand brushed his. It brought a sense of safety and a familiar rush of excitement. 

“A lot’s changed since she went away,” she said. 

Derek ignored her, pointing up. “Usually there's something here.”

As if on cue, a decapitated head descended from the ceiling, its fake hair stopping a few centimeters away from their heads. Casey suppressed a scream. Three marbles were thrown at their feet, coming from the door on her right, and she made the mistake of turning her head to see a woman dressed as a little girl on the floor, trying to reach her as she screamed for help. 

Her hand was so damp she rubbed them against her jeans. She had probably leaned even closer to him after the scare, because now their hands were bumping into each other at every step. He didn’t move away.

“And I thought that maybe—” she continued, being abruptly cut off by a hand on her shoulder. 

She screamed again, involuntarily reaching for Derek’s hand; she clung to his side, hiding her face in his chest without realizing what she had done until the moment his fingers curved around her hand. His skin was warm against her cold one. 

“Fuck, what was that?” 

Derek chortled at her swearing. “I couldn’t tell, you were hanging on to me for dear life.”

She swallowed hard, slowly opening her eyes. She couldn’t remember being that close to Derek; every time she had tried to hug him in the past had been interrupted by his hands pushing her away. That wasn't essentially a hug, but she could smell the scent of his body spray and feel his heart beating a little fast under her cheek, probably because she had scared him with her scream, but nowhere near the intensity of hers.

“What happened to you telling me what was going on?"

"That one was new, I had no idea it'd happen."

Casey took a few breaths, trying to calm herself down; but holding his hand wasn’t speeding the process and, honestly, she was enjoying the experience too much to let go so fast. 

“I bet you Marti would walk this whole thing without flinching," he mentioned; she could hear the smile in his voice and it made her lips quirk up in response. 

“God, that kid is literally you. It’s scary.”

“Thank you. I worked hard on that one.”

A couple walked by them in the hall and Casey realized she had completely forgotten about where they were. She finally welcomed the feeling of awkwardness the moment she allowed herself to go back to reality and remember she had been holding Derek for at least two minutes. 

She stepped to the side without looking at him and he squeezed her hand, most likely a tacit way to make her let go. But when she tried to pull her hand out of his grasp, his grip intensified and he pulled her to stand in front of him. 

Casey looked up at him, wide-eyed, watching the blinking lights around them cast a prism-like color palette at his face. Something flickered in his eyes, but she was too stunned to discern it, because he still hadn’t let go of her hand and she had no idea what he was doing.

“What did you think?” he asked.

“W-what?”

“You were saying something before.”

She couldn’t remember. There was nothing else inside her mind, not even the panic thoughts that had been accompanying her inside that house ever since they stepped in. 

A series of screams reverberated somewhere near them, but neither moved. His eyes were persistently glued to hers, inciting that rush in her chest she knew so well. It happened every time she stole glances he wasn’t aware of, or when he threw his head back to laugh at something funny, or when he simply appeared at the door of her dorm in the morning with a cup of tea. Sometimes he was simply in the middle of a sentence and she would feel it. The rush of affection. The urge to touch him. The fear of its implications and its real meaning.

“I don’t—I can’t remember,” she sputtered.

“About Sally,” he helped.

Casey swallowed, wondering if he couldn’t feel the dampness of her hand. Beads of sweat were starting to roll down her back. 

“Oh. Right. I just... thought you’d be happy she was here.”

“I _am_.”

She blinked, somewhat offended by the smirk he wore on his face, finally freeing her hand from his with a wrench.

“Then we should probably finish this so you have time to talk to her,” she said as nonchalantly as possible. “And I can leave this nightmare already.”

"And here I thought you were enjoying my company," he said sarcastically, taking a step forward; Casey swallowed, unable to do anything else but stare up at his eyes that shone with mischief. "This will be quicker if I hold your hand."

"What?"

"Your _hand_. This one," he mocked, grabbing her right hand and gently bending her fingers to curve them around his palm. "We won't get very far if you keep stopping every five seconds," he explained, raising his eyebrows.

Either she made everything he did look flirtier than what he intended or he meant to mess with her. She was willing to bet on the second one. Derek winked playfully at her and she nearly felt her heart try to jump out of her chest as they started walking down the dark hall.

She looked down at their joined hands and breathed in.

Suddenly the house wasn’t the scariest thing she had ever had to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for all the comments and kudos left in the previous chapter. It honestly makes my day getting to read what you guys are thinking! You're all amazing!  
> I hope you liked this one as well ❤️


	4. Of Exes and Sisters

_“I'll admit, for a moment I felt so afraid_

_Just to show you the mess that I made_

_There are pieces I usually hide_

_But when you collect me with your steady hand_

_With a language that I understand_

_I feel put back together inside”_

_(Ease My Mind - Ben Platt)_

Derek

Maybe she was right. Maybe when she innocently said that he and dark places weren't a good combo, he should've listened. 

In his twisted, sadic mind, he was hoping to walk with her through the house, shamelessly neglecting the fact that it would only make it harder for him to stick to his plan. Because she held his hand out of fear and he selfishly glowed with the thought of being a source of comfort for her. He had never been a source of comfort for anyone.

Derek wasn't a hypocrite; he played with fire more often than he should, only to back out when he felt control slipping from his hands. Sometimes he flirted with her, because there was no real damage when she played it off as him being smug. But occasionally, he would notice her sucking the air in a little too quickly, stammering or even blushing whenever he did it. 

Surely, he could blame it on uncomfortableness—he shouldn’t be flirting with his step-sister!—but there was always a part of him that wondered if she wasn’t as immune to him as she claimed to be.

But those were mere presumptions, ones he would never be able to solve. They kept running through his head when he didn’t let go of her hand and she stared at him in bemusement; they stood their ground when she sputtered her words, seemingly nervous; they shouted at him when she asked about Sally, her tone slightly annoyed when he admitted to being happy about his ex’s surprise appearance. 

Derek wasn’t prepared to see Sally. It had been a long time since he talked to her and he hadn’t even thought about his reaction to seeing her again after years until the opportunity presented itself. There was definitely still a feeling of affection connected to her, something he thought would never completely go away because he deeply cared for her. But there was nothing else.

“I’ll go get some cotton candy,” Casey announced tersely, breaking the silence that followed them to the backdoor of the dark house.

Derek didn’t even have time to offer his company; she was pulling her hand to herself and opening the exit door before he could open his mouth. Honestly, he couldn’t even blame her. One night he called himself her boyfriend, the next he held her hand. Whatever made other girls want him, made Casey run away. 

“What happened?” 

He turned to Emily, sitting on a bench next to Sally just a few meters from the house. The spooky blue lights on the makeshift garden made them look inhuman. 

“Nothing,” he said defensively, approaching them. “Why?”

Emily narrowed her eyes at him. “Where did Casey go?”

“She said she’d go for cotton candy.”

She sighed, getting up to march towards him. “You’re useless, Venturi,” she chided, jabbing a finger into his chest before following Casey’s path.

Derek watched her agape, shaking his head in incredulity. “Did I do something I’m not aware of?” he asked Sally, who stood up with an amused smile. 

“Possibly.”

“Are you two suddenly friends or something?”

She walked up to his side and slang her arm around his. “Walk with me, Derek.”

“For fuck’s sake, did Emily put you up to lecture me or something?” 

“Of course not. I just want to talk.”

Derek studied her face suspiciously, slowly giving her a nod, as if to proceed. They began to walk down the path leading to the booths. He could already hear the jovial carnival music playing under cheerful screams and laughter. 

“So,” Sally began, eagerly, “did I tell you I got an internship?”

He glanced at her, smiling. “Hey, congrats.”

“Thanks. All I do is serve coffee and make sure we have enough paper in the office, but sometimes I get to sit in my supervisor’s chair when he’s not there,” she said humorously. 

Derek faked a gasp. “Oh, wow. At this pace, you’ll be ordering his lunch in no time, and then who’s going to stop you?”

She laughed, and he joined her involuntarily. Despite not seeing her for a very long time, it was very easy to fall back into old habits; Sally was one of those people who made others feel comfortable quite quickly. He genuinely enjoyed her company and it was just occurring to him that he had missed her. Sally lifted her head to look at his profile and he kept his eyes ahead, feeling somewhat strange.

“It’s really good to see you again, you know? I was kind of hoping I would, but I didn’t know if it’d be weird,” she confessed.

“Why would it be weird?”

“You know why.” 

He looked at her, puzzled. “It’s not like we’re sudden enemies.”

“No, but we’re exes and that’s a little weird.”

“It's not. _Really_ ,” Derek affirmed with a nod.

Sally nodded too, watching her steps as they passed by a series of booths with colorful lights and shelves filled with stuffed animals and toys.

“Good,” she said, squeezing his arm. He felt her hesitance, but didn’t mention it, knowing she would continue without any need to be pressured. “Because I wouldn't want things to _get_ weird, since you’re coming to the party tomorrow." She risked a glance at him before announcing, "I’m engaged.”

Derek’s feet halted on their own, making Sally stumble and grab his arm in order to steady herself. She took a step to the side and faced him, patiently waiting for his reply. He was trying to decide between being happy for her—she _did_ look excited—and thinking she was insane. 

He scrunched up his nose. “Jesus, Sally. You’re twenty.”

She chuckled, relaxing her stance; “It’s not like I’m getting married _tomorrow_. And who cares about age, anyway?”

Derek hummed in agreement. “Fair. But still weird. Not... _that_ kind of weird,” he hastened to say. "It's kind of like... why are you throwing your life away, you know?"

Sally rolled her eyes, although she was still smiling. “I wouldn't expect anything else from you, Derek." She sighed contentedly. "I think you’ll like Ryan.”

“Is he in town?”

“He’ll be here tomorrow. He’s visiting his parents in Hamilton.” She clasped her hands and beamed at him. “His uncle knows a few guys from the Leafs.”

He raised his eyebrows, his interest suddenly piqued. “Nice score, Sal.” 

She playfully poked him on the arm. “Oh, stop saying it like I’m a lady after a good bachelor.”

“See, you didn’t even appreciate my sports pun,” he mentioned, faking offense. “I’m happy for you.”

“Things worked out in the end, huh?” she mused, smiling. “I just wish we’d kept in touch. But, you know... it was kind of hard at the beginning. It was too recent. And then time went by and I felt a little weird about trying to call or message you.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Every time I visited my parents I was scared I was going to run into you,” she revealed, chuckling. 

“I’m literally never in London. This is my first time back home since Marti's birthday.”

Sally furrowed her brows in surprise. “Oh? I thought Casey would want to visit more often.”

“She _would_ ,” he agreed, pursing his lips in disapproval. “But she would also like to _study_ more often, if what she does isn’t enough.”

“Well, why don’t you visit by yourself, then?” 

Derek shuffled in his place, shoving his hands inside his pockets. It was a simple question, yet he couldn’t find an answer. Whenever Nora and George video called them—a tradition that Nora and Casey had started and never stopped doing every Friday—and asked them to visit, Casey would apologize vehemently and say she had an important exam or project to hand in. And he would simply agree when she looked at him for approval. Like he couldn’t go without her and she couldn’t stay without him. They were a package deal by now.

He shrugged nonchalantly, thinking of the first excuse that popped into his head. “I’d have to drive for hours and I hate it. You know I don’t drive more than thirty minutes when there’s traffic.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, evidently fighting another smile. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“ _Sally_.”

“I think you’re full of shit,” she conceded. “I think you don’t want to leave without her.”

 _Not this again._ He was both mentally and physically tired of being called out on his feelings. He was being subtle, wasn’t he? Yes, he was fairly positive he was. Yet Sam saw right through the walls he put up. But even though Sally knew him well enough, she hadn’t seen him around Casey after their relationship changed. 

“Well, that too,” he confirmed, silently rejoicing in her expression of surprise that made him feel victorious. She was definitely expecting him to deny everything. Which he _was_ doing, in a way.

“Really?”

“Yeah. If I take the car, she’s going to stay inside her dorm until I get back and she usually stocks my minibar, so I need her to do the shopping. Also, she calls non-stop whenever she needs to talk to someone and can’t reach Emily.”

Sally scoffed, shaking her head. “ _Full. Of. Shit._ ”

“Can you stop that?”

“Okay, look... don’t take this the wrong way, I never doubted you when you said you liked me.”

Derek jerked back, frowning at the new topic. “Why are we taking a trip down memory lane?”

“Because it’s relevant to what I’m about to tell you. Which I think you already know, but are too scared to admit.” She sighed, crossing her arms. “I think that helped me move on in a way.”

“You’ve lost me, Sal.” 

“ _Feelings_ ,” she clarified. “I’m talking about feelings. I know how much you hate them.”

Derek felt his muscles stiffening promptly. He would not discuss feelings that he hadn’t even sorted out yet with his ex-girlfriend. Or with anyone else, for that matter. Those feelings were supposed to stay hidden until they disappeared. Because they would—they _had_ to.

“You’ve always felt connected to Casey and I knew that. I don’t think you knew that, but I noticed it in the little things.”

Derek chuckled humorlessly. “Enlighten me.”

“I had to share your attention whenever she was around. Sometimes we would go on dates and I’d only realize we’d spent the night talking about her and your fights when I got home. I was so used to it that it was almost normal.”

Her voice was soft and serene as she said it, but Derek couldn’t help the feeling of guilt that was gradually eating at him. Had he really been that oblivious about his own actions and hurt Sally in the process? Why didn’t she say something? Why didn’t _he_ see it?

“But you never did it on purpose,” she added. “I know that because you put a lot of effort into claiming how much she annoyed you.”

“Because she _did_ ,” he affirmed. “She _does_. We spent those years we lived together _fighting_. You were there, you know.” He hated how desperate his voice sounded, like he was begging her to believe his words.

It was one thing to acknowledge that Casey had always instigated feelings and thoughts that should have never even crossed his mind, but it was another thing to revisit and compare said feelings and thoughts about her to the ones he had regarding Sally.

_I loved her._

“I know,” she agreed. “But the more I saw your interactions, the more I understood what was happening.”

“What was happening?”

It was almost as if Sally could read his desperate thoughts; he wasn't sure he was doing a good job hiding them. Her eyes softened and she offered him a friendly, compassionate smile.

“What you do best. Pushing people away. You don’t want to care, you don’t want to _feel_. And then when you do, you try to push it away. The only way you could pretend you didn’t like Casey was convincing yourself and others that you didn’t.”

_I loved Sally._

Derek snorted, ignoring the way his skin was prickling with chagrin. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Even if I was just imagining things... I saw you two before, when you were with Marti. I was here when you arrived. I was going to talk to you, but I didn't want to interrupt." She paused, scanning his face for any reaction. He wanted to say something—probably another denial—but nothing came out. There was too much pressure to keep a stoic face. "Because the way you looked at her, Derek... I was convinced you were together."

"Wha—that's ridiculous," he said, feeling awfully stupid for stammering like a little kid being caught stealing chocolate from the pantry. "There was nothing before and there's nothing now. Sally, I was ready to _leave town_ for you.”

“Yet she convinced you to stay. _Casey_ made you change your mind. I don’t think anyone’s ever managed to do that.”

He knew the rush of anger blooming inside his chest wasn’t directed at Sally, but it felt like it was. She didn’t have any right to reach for that locked box inside his mind and force him to confront his past. It made him _feel_. Shame. Regret. Guilt. 

_I loved Sally._

He did. He had never cared for another girl as deeply until he met Sally. She was his best friend, his source of comfort and a great company for movies and exquisite dates. He had quickly grown to love her, but now he was questioning the scope of his feelings. Because he loved her, but he also loved Emily and Sam and even Ralph. And what differentiated a feeling if it had only one name?

_I loved Sally._

Not as much as she deserved or as much as he was capable of. 

_I wasn’t_ in love _with her._

“It was a stupid decision,” he said, thankful that he sounded calm when his mind was racing at the speed of light.

“Absolutely. Even if you had come with me, you would’ve come back at some point. It wouldn’t have worked out.”

Derek shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you to make you believe I don’t feel anything I’m not supposed to.”

“Just listen to yourself,” she insisted, grabbing his upper arms to demand his attention. “Things you’re not ‘ _supposed_ ’ to. You think you shouldn’t feel this and you try to repress it. But there’s absolutely nothing wrong with—”

“There you are!” Ralph’s unmistakable buoyant voice interrupted Sally and Derek bolted away from her, turning to see his friends walking towards them. “Sorry it took us this long.”

“‘ _Us_ ’,” Sam scoffed, making air quotes with his fingers. “Ralph wanted to check the room near that creepy skull and got trapped inside a rusty cage that was like a billion years old. The guy that was inside the cage had to help him out. He might have tetanus now.”

“At least we laughed about it,” Ralph shrugged, seeming very pleased with the way the night had turned out for him. Sometimes Derek envied his innocence and positivity. It must be nice to live without doubts or thoughts that could nearly drive one insane.

Sam looked around, probably about to ask where the rest of their odd posse was, but his eyes stopped somewhere above Derek’s shoulders. He followed his gaze to find Emily and Casey crossing the street; the former holding the teddy bear Derek had gotten for his sister, while the latter held Marti’s hand. His sister's downcast eyes promptly worried him.

“Hey, what happened?” he asked, crouching down to study Marti’s face. “Did you get hurt?”

“No, I just don’t feel well, Smerek,” she said, placing a hand on her stomach. 

He looked up at Casey, who had a similar expression of concern on her face. 

“I think something upset her stomach, we should go home.”

“Shouldn’t we go to the hospital?”

“No, I guess it’s just—”

Marti sneezed twice, groaning afterwards. 

“The flu, possibly,” Casey concluded. 

“Let’s go home, then.” Derek picked Marti up into his arms and she leaned her chin in the crook of his neck, loosely wrapping her little arms around his shoulders. 

Casey grabbed Marti’s bear from Emily and they quickly said their goodbyes, walking back to the parking lot. The ride was quite silent, since Casey stayed in the backseat with Marti while Derek drove back home, checking them both in the rearview mirror every now and then. 

“Should we call mom and George?” Casey wondered after he lay Marti on his bed. There was more space and he could sleep near her in case she needed him during the night.

Casey approached the girl with a thermometer in hands, motioning for her to lift her arm so that she could measure her temperature. Derek moved to the foot of the bed, starting to take off Marti’s shoes.

“No, there’s no point in getting them worried,” he replied. “I’m pretty sure she’s going to be better in the morning. Right, Smarti?” He smiled at his sister, who sneezed in response, but managed a weak smile and a thumbs up.

“I don’t feel like puking anymore,” Marti mentioned.

“Did you eat something before going on the rollercoaster?” Casey pried.

Marti pressed her lips in an obvious confession. “I _might_ have.”

“What did I tell you before we left home?”

“Not to do it?”

Derek laughed under his breath, walking around the bed to sit beside Casey. Marti had a knack for disobeying orders that resembled his own. It shouldn’t make him proud, especially if it could end up with her getting sick, but he couldn’t help it.

“Then that’s just a cold,” he declared, bending down to press his lips to Marti’s forehead. Her skin was slightly warm, but not feverish. “I don’t think she has a fever.”

“Let’s just check,” Casey said, resting her hand on Marti’s leg. "Maybe the rain wasn't a good idea," she mused.

“Smerek,” Marti called, turning her head to look at him, “my head feels heavy.”

He touched her temple, gingerly massaging it with his thumb, like he always did whenever she had a headache. He noticed Casey’s attentive eyes on him, watching them in complete silence. 

“What about your throat?”

Marti shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Derek smiled, playfully tugging at her braid before getting up. “I’ll be right back.”

He made his way to the bathroom, opening the cabinet to find what he was looking for. Grabbing the Tylenol, he made his way back to his room. 

“One Tylenol for the lady,” he announced in a funny voice that made Marti laugh and immediately start coughing. “Oh, sorry.” 

“Casey can’t believe you know how to do this,” Marti revealed, sitting up with Casey’s help. 

Derek smirked as he held Marti’s chin up to drop the medicine into her mouth. “Well, Casey doesn’t believe I know how to do many things,” he countered. 

He didn’t know whether they were back to being friendly with each other after whatever happened at the carnival. With a side glance, he saw her rolling her eyes and decided it was a clear sign that all was well.

“I didn’t say it like _that_. It’s just weird.”

“Why is it weird?” Derek asked, putting the lid back on the medicine to place it on top of his nightstand. He turned to look at her and noticed Marti doing the same, expectantly. 

Casey opened her mouth, but slammed it shut right after, darting her eyes between the siblings.

The concept wasn’t foreign to him, watching over and pampering his little sister when she was sick. After their mom left, George was supposed to be in charge,—and he was, but he was as good with taking care of a sick child as he was with driving—but Derek didn’t mind taking the responsibility for himself. 

He fathomed this was his way of dealing with the vacant space his mother had left. When she packed her things and crossed the threshold of the front door for the last time, he feared the rest of his broken family would eventually do the same. As a child, he was constantly expecting to find his dad missing. If he stood close to their siblings, maybe they wouldn’t walk away.

Naturally, that fear decimated with time. But he never stopped helping their siblings; or at least Marti, since he wouldn’t pamper Edwin for obvious reasons. Not that he wouldn’t grab him a Tylenol if he needed one, but only if he was nearly dying. When Nora joined the family, she graciously stepped in to help when one of the kids got sick, but Derek would always check on Marti during the night to ascertain she didn't have a fever or didn't need anything.

“I just never saw you doing it,” Casey finally said.

“Well, you couldn’t see Smerek coming here at night to check how I was. After mom went away, he—”

“ _Okay_ ,” Derek interrupted her, moving to get the thermometer from under her arm. He could feel Casey’s curious gaze on him; thankfully, he knew she was probably too worried about being insensitive to inquire about what he was clearly wanting to stay away from.

Marti frowned at him. “What did I say?”

“Nothing.” He checked the thermometer with a relieved sigh. Snapping his head up to look at Marti, he smiled. “No fever for you.”

Marti raised her hand so he could high-five her, but retrieved it to reach for a handkerchief Casey had brought her. She sneezed and blew her nose, laying back on the bed. 

“Maybe you should get some sleep,” Casey suggested, gently squeezing Marti’s knee over the blanket. “You’ll be feeling better tomorrow.”

“But I’m not tired,” Marti contested, her voice close to a whine. 

“That’s okay, you don’t have to sleep,” Derek countered, leaning closer to his sister. “Staying in bed is fine.” 

“Okay, but you’ll stay the night, right?” she asked eagerly, grabbing a hold of the collar of his shirt. He felt his lips curving into a smile involuntarily, his chest filled with love for that tiny human being that needed him. 

“Sure. If you promise not to snore.”

“ _You_ snore,” she accused, pointing a finger at him. “It sounds like a truck.”

“Oh, just you wait until you’re good enough to be tickled,” he threatened her playfully, wiggling his fingers in the air. Marti chuckled, but the sound soon turned into a dry cough. "Jeez, you sound like a fifty-year-old smoker."

“Okay," Casey intervened, although she had a smile on her face, "let's maybe lay low on the laughing?"

Marti nodded in agreement and Casey stood up. 

"You can stay too," Marti said, patting the vacant space next to her.

"I was just going to change," she explained. Pointing at the chair next to the bed, she added, "I'll be right there. I have to check your temperature again at some point." 

"Then _Derek_ should stay there. He's the boy," she uttered in a quiet voice, as if it was a secret. 

Casey laughed under her breath and Derek was stuck between finding her wittiness equally funny and adorable, and coming to terms with the fact that he was going to share a bedroom with Casey again. At least he was safe with Marti there. Not that he would ever act on his still unruly feelings.

"Smerek?" Marti whispered when Casey left the room.

Derek slid off the bed to kneel down next to it and rest his forearms on the mattress, directing his attention to Marti. "Hmm?"

"Why were you talking to Sally?" 

He jerked his head back, surprised by the odd question. "Why _wouldn't_ I talk to her?" 

Marti shrugged. "I thought you didn't talk anymore." 

"Not like _that_." He wetted his lips, unsure of how to proceed. He certainly wouldn't talk to Marti about his failed relationship, which Sally had basically blamed on his apparent obsession with his step-sister. 

"Like what, then?" 

He sighed. "I don't know, Smarti. Sometimes people just stop talking. It doesn't mean they don't like each other anymore." 

Marti's eyes widened just a bit. "You still like Sally?" 

"What? No! Not like _that_." 

She rolled her eyes. "Here we go again." 

"Marti, Sally and I are friends and you know that. I don't even know where this is coming from."

"Sally is cool," she mentioned, averting her eyes to the ceiling. "But you shouldn't date her." 

Derek knitted his eyebrows, fighting a playful smile. "O-kay, why is that?" 

She furrowed her brows in concentration, thoughtfully, and he waited patiently for her to look at him again. 

"If you lived without her just fine, then you're not meant to be," she said, her face twisted into a determination that didn't match a child. At least not regarding the subject in question. "You need someone who you look at... and you think you're home." 

Her mysterious tone rendered the chuckle that escaped his lips impossible to repress. "Where did you hear this?" 

She smiled, her childlike features enhanced by the glimmer in her eyes. "Finding Nemo." 

He wheezed, hiding his face into his folded arms. Marti smacked his shoulder, irked at his reaction, which only made him laugh more. 

"I'm serious, Derek!" 

"What's going on?" Casey asked. 

He lifted his head to her, wiping under his eyes, his shoulders still trembling from the now stifled laughter. Casey closed the door after her, a glass of water in her hands.

"It's not funny!" Marti whined, smacking his shoulder one more time. 

Casey approached the bed, offering Marti the water. The girl grimaced at him before taking a few gulps with Casey's help. 

"Sorry," Derek said, controlling his laughter. Placing his hand on his chest, he added, "I’ll take those wise words into consideration.”

“You think it’s funny, but it’s true,” Marti contested, narrowing her eyes at him. She shifted her gaze to Casey, who was placing the half-full glass of water on the nightstand. “Casey agrees.”

Casey craned her neck to eye Marti, puzzled. Her expression grew concerned when Derek looked at her with arched eyebrows, the shadow of a smirk on his lips.

“What do I agree with?”

“That Derek and Sally weren’t meant to be.”

Derek had plenty of witty comebacks forming inside his head, but he decided that staring at Casey while she fumbled with her words and widened her eyes with a subtle swing of her head was much more enjoyable.

"Wha—no. _No_ , that's not what I said," she said, laying her eyes on Derek to strengthen the affirmation, but red spots began to appear across her neck and up her cheeks. His grin intensified and she shook her head again. "I never said that."

There was nothing wrong about her talking about his relationship, but her reaction wasn't commensurable with the supposedly innocent exchange with his sister. Which made it seem like she cared more about it than what she led him to believe. 

"Remember when we talked about it after Sally left?" Marti insisted, and now he was almost feeling bad for Casey, because the girl's lack of tact was either accidental or intentional. She was too good of an actress for him to declare which it was. "And you said it was for the best? That they would never—"

" _Yes,_ Marti," she intervened, looking pointedly at the girl.

Derek shouldn't be as excited about Casey being bothered by his relationship as he was, he knew that. Yet there was a burning sensation in his stomach, a pleasant feeling he often linked to his ego inflating.

"I _remember_ the conversation," she said, trying to sound calm, although Derek could hear the annoyance in her tone. "And that's _not_ what I said."

"Maybe we need a cross-examination," Derek suggested, a grin permanent on his lips. "What _exactly_ did Casey say, Smarti?"

"Shut up, Derek," Casey snapped.

"Well, this concerns me. I didn't know you were so interested in my relationship, Case," he mentioned humorously. "Feel free to share with the class, Marti's been pretty vocal about it."

"I'm _not_ interested," she denied, almost offended. Her voice sounded higher. "Marti just asked me why you guys were breaking up."

"Right, but you agreed when I said that they didn't belong," Marti added. The tiny shadow of a smile on his sister's lips resolved his doubts about it being intentional. What was she doing? "That they would never work."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" he taunted Casey again.

She gasped when their eyes met. "Stop that!"

"Stop what?"

" _That_ ," she pointed at him, accusatory. "What you're doing right now."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Stop giving me that stupid smirk."

Her words obviously had the opposite intended effect and his smirk only grew bigger, rendering the end of her embarrassment impossible. She huffed again, accommodating herself beside Marti. His sister sneezed and used the handkerchief again, waving her hand at him as if for him to wait for her to continue. He shook his head, pulling the blanket up to her neck.

“I’m good with the Disney love lessons,” he mocked, chuckling when Marti hit his shoulder with her hand.

It didn’t take much longer for the drowsiness to finally hit Marti, making her yawn in between her sneezes and close her eyes to sleep peacefully in his bed. He couldn’t see Casey from where he was, but she hadn’t said a word since their small banter; he carefully leaned over Marti to find Casey sleeping, her hand tucked under her cheek, the corners of her lips slightly raised as if she was having a good dream. She looked so beautiful.

And it scared him. It scared him so much that he sucked in his breath, wrapping his hands around the bedsheet on the edge of the mattress. It was one of those rare moments of epiphany, ones he barely ever witnessed, but left him flabbergasted. Like realizing he liked Casey more than he should. That was a horrifying assumption until he had no other option but to confront it and confirm it. He had months to comprehend his feelings and decide that they would eventually dissipate, because _of course they would._

But now he wasn’t so sure. 

“Smerek?”

It was only a whisper in the middle of a dark room, but Derek jumped; his eyes shooting up to the clock on his wall that indicated he had been losing his mind for more than an hour over f-f-feelings. _What is happening to me? This is Casey!_

He swallowed, adjusting his position near the bed, which hadn’t changed. His legs hurt and he stretched them to the side.

“Yeah? Are you okay?” he whispered back, concerned. "How's your head?"

Marti lay on her side, staring at him with droopy eyelids. "It's good. I just can't sleep."

"I'll keep you company, then." 

She smiled, reaching out to cover his hand with hers. "I’m so glad you’re home. I missed you guys." 

He turned his palm upward to envelop her hand into his. “We missed you too, Smarti. But college is really hard and there’s almost no time to visit.”

"Maybe you should've studied more before going. It wouldn't be as hard."

He chuckled under his breath, agreeing with a nod of his head. “That's why you're the smart one in this family."

“I’m glad you’re friends now too."

"Who? Me and Casey?" 

"Yeah. It's nice not seeing you fighting every two minutes," she said, shrugging. “I had a good time at the carnival today.” 

He cleared his throat, looking at their joined hands while he casually played with her fingers. "Well, we're trying to keep it civil for the fam. But we’re not friends." 

"What are you, then?" 

_Good question._

"Are we playing twenty-one questions?” he contorted, snapping his head up to look at her with a mocking smile. “‘Cause if it is, it’s my turn." 

Marti scrunched up her nose. "No, it isn't. You just asked me a question." 

"I swear, you're too smart to be a Venturi." 

She smiled again, then proceeded to grab the handkerchief she had been using to cover her nose before she sneezed. "Why were you always mean to Casey?" 

"I wasn't _mean_. I just like to prank her. It's fun."

" _Sometimes_ you were mean," she insisted. "But I know you liked her deep down." 

"Oh." His tone was amused, despite the flow of the conversation bordering danger. He hoped Casey was still sound asleep. “Do you? Please, humor me." 

Marti leaned forward as if to tell him a secret. "You told me you'd miss her when you were leaving with mom, remember?" 

His eyes rose to unsuccessfully check Casey; he could only see the top of her head from where he was standing. They were closer now, despite his claims that he wasn’t her friend—he wasn’t. But it didn’t mean he was affectionate towards her or let her know how much he cared about her. It would be stupid to open up, especially because he didn't know what _he_ would find inside of him if he did.

Sometimes he envied Casey; the way she openly expressed her feelings to the people she loved or how her first instinct upon meeting someone she knew was to hug them. It seemed so easy, so natural. He still remembered how she told him once that she was under the impression he hated her. Her reasons? His aversion to physical contact and constant disregard of her feelings. It made him wonder if everyone in his life felt like he wasn't capable of liking another person. Because he couldn't change who he was; he couldn't stop hiding under childish insults and protecting himself from her attempts to get closer, because it would add another crack to his walls.

When she told him she needed and appreciated him, he felt completely lost. She had always been kind to him, but he never thought of himself as someone she genuinely wanted by her side. And it scared him how much her words mattered to him; how much they affected him and launched a bundle of sappy, cloying feelings he didn't want or need coursing through his body. She ignited an odd feeling then, a strange urge to let her know how much _he_ appreciated her. But he wasn't good with words, and he was even worse with actions. He was stuck in his own mind and haunted by those stupid emotions.

“I told you to never repeat that. I was clearly out of my mind.”

Marti’s lips curved up in the most angelic smile, yet she somehow added a bit of irony to it. He hadn’t realized how much she had picked up from him during all those years. She blinked, the weight of the sleepiness slowly wearing her down. 

“Boys are stupid.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. It’s okay if you like Casey.”

He shook his head vehemently, both to avoid vocalizing a denial and a confession. "Why are we talking about this again? You should be sleeping."

"You said you'd keep me company."

"And I'm regretting it. If dad and Nora know that you're awake this late, they'll never let us babysit you again."

"Then we won't tell them."

"Fine with me as long as you shut up."

“ _You_ shut up,” she said playfully, her voice rising a little bit, to which he drew his finger close to his lips in a gesture for her to be silent.

That quelled the little girl for a few minutes after she let out a long sigh of defeat. Her eyelids snapped shut and he believed she had finally surrendered to the drowsiness, but soon after she opened her eyes again to stare at him.

"I think you should tell her," she said, softly. 

"What?"

"That you like her."

The seriousness in her tone didn’t seem fit for a child who, supposedly, knew nothing of relationships, much less of a troubled one like his and Casey’s. But there was a soft glimmer in her eyes, a touch of comprehension in her countenance that left him intrigued; it left him wondering if she, being as young as she was, could as much as suspect what he felt. If she could be impregnating a different meaning to the word ‘ _like_ ’ than the one he had formerly assumed. 

He drew his eyebrows together and forced the feeling of uneasiness away, leaning on the mattress to stand up. 

“Scoot over,” he told her, carefully laying down next to his sister.

He stretched his arm out under her head and Marti rested her cheek on his shoulder comfortably; the smell of her _tutti frutti_ scented shampoo reached his nostrils and he planted a kiss on the top of her head. 

"I learned this thing," he said, bending his arm to gently brush her hair. “It’ll help you sleep.”

Marti nodded, closing her eyes to let her brother scratch her scalp soothingly. He felt her body relaxing, gradually losing touch with reality as his fingers slowly stopped their work to brush the extent of her hair until his arm stretched out again and his hand fell on top of the pillow Casey was using.

He looked to the side, like a weak-willed idiot, observing her for a few minutes before he let his fingers play absentmindedly with the tips of her hair, spread across the pillowcase; the brown strands stark against the whiteness of the fabric.

Marti’s words rewound inside his head like a wry lullaby that, instead of easing his mind, was eating at him. Casey knew he liked her; they had a tacit understanding of their relationship as far as he knew. He wouldn’t willingly spend time with her or listen to her tiring babbling if that weren’t the case. 

But that was it and it was enough as it was. He could never bring himself to say the words aloud, because they would make him even weaker. If he opened up to her—and God was a witness to how much he had already shown her against his better judgment—soon there would be nothing else for her to see. And then he would be stripped off of his secrets. 

_And they wonder why I hate feelings._

Derek sighed and looked at the ceiling, his fingers still playing with Casey’s hair as if they had lives of their own. The world was asleep on the outside, but it seemed too loud for him now. The occasional noise from the cars passing by the street or the crickets chirping nearby usually helped him sleep, but now they had the complete opposite effect. Now those sounds, including Marti’s steady breathing next to him, enhanced the silence; the raw, deafening silence that accompanied his paradoxically loud thoughts. 

Completely involved in the confusion inside his mind, he heard Casey sighing and withdrew his hand as if he had been electrocuted, too self-conscious and embarrassed about what he had been doing so mindlessly. He eyed her warily, checking to see if she had noticed it. She opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling and he wondered when his heart had started beating so out of rhythm.

"It's weird not seeing you take credit for something," she uttered quietly. There was no debauchery or humor in her voice, just plain curiosity. 

"Hmm?"

Casey swallowed before adjusting herself in bed, laying on her side to meet his eyes. "Marti."

Derek shifted his gaze to his sister for a moment. "It's not something to take credit for."

Something about his words must have surprised her, because a subtle crease appeared between her brows as she smiled. The gesture hit him unexpectedly, sending a wave of warmth through his body. He hated it. He felt stupid. The things he had always mocked his brother for were now happening to him, like a sadic karma that laughed at his face; he was just as weak and scared to face a girl.

_It’s Casey, for fuck’s sake!_

Her eyes were insistent over him and the longer she took to say something else, the more his skin began to feel hot. Another smile crept upon her lips and he scratched his nose with the back of his hand to buy a few seconds away from her eyes. He didn’t like being analyzed by other people, especially by her.

"What?" he asked, uneasy, turning his attention back to her. 

She shook her head. "You never told me what it was like when your mom left." 

A twinge of irritation prodded at him as he clenched his jaw and averted his eyes. He barely ever talked about his mother leaving—or _at all_ , for that matter. Although he could perfectly understand it with resigned acceptance and comprehend that it was the best decision she could have made, it hurt. But no one needed to know that. Much less Casey. 

“That should give you a hint,” he grumbled.

“I think you should talk about it more.” 

He didn’t dare reply. The subject of his parents’ divorce was too delicate, a convoluted mess that he didn’t enjoy reminiscing. It wasn’t the first time Casey had tried to speculate; not only about his mother, but anything regarding his life; the things he didn’t say, but he knew she saw in his eyes.

Derek didn’t know how she did it, but she managed to see beyond his exterior more often than not. She was constantly searching for something in him; anything that could make him trust her enough to share his thoughts. She wouldn’t mind sharing the emotional baggage and he knew it. And he couldn’t help but adore her even more for it. 

Casey cleared her throat and he closed his eyes for safety. 

"I never talked about my dad either," she began, reluctantly. Her voice sounded even lower than before, as if her subconscious was silently begging her not to expose that scar. “Lizzie was too young and mom... well, I didn't want to hurt her. So I just kept it to myself. And I was... I don't know, I was really scared. I didn't see it coming, you know?” 

He opened his eyes again to look at her; she had her own eyes fixed on Marti’s back, her eyebrows knitted together like she was replaying a mental image inside her head, reliving the moment her father left. 

“It’s weird, because they never fought. They never did _anything_ that could've led me to believe they were splitting up.” She paused for a moment, and he could practically see the tears welling up in her eyes when her voice wavered. “Or maybe they were just too subtle about it, I don’t know.”

 _Fuck, no._ Part of his mind was yelling at him to stop her rant before she burst into tears in front of him— _God_ , he hated tears—while the other part was demanding him to stop being a complete asshole and start acting like a grown-up. Because she clearly needed to cleanse her soul by liberating those words and he needed to hear them.

“Maybe if there were signs,” she contemplated, lifting her head to stare at him with a tired sigh. “But there weren't any. I thought... 'hey, my dad got tired of us. Maybe that's just it. People leave. They come into your life and they're supposed to love you and never leave you, but they do anyway.'" She shrugged again. "I know that wasn’t the case. My dad loves us, but... it's a scary thing for a kid. And it still hurts sometimes, even after all this time."

Casey raised a hand to wipe a stubborn tear that had made its way to her nose, letting the silence sit comfortably between them again. He had never felt such a strong will to reach out to her and brush his knuckles across her cheeks. The thought scared him momentarily and he closed his hands into fists the moment she rose her eyes to his again.

"I don't know if signs make it any better," he blurted out. 

Surprised by his engagement in the conversation, she blinked. Derek turned his head to the other side for meager seconds, took a deep breath, and then stared back at her again. She waited quietly, probably doubting he would go any further. He doubted it himself.

_Don’t do it._

But his mind wasn’t as fast as his lips when it came to Casey. 

"She was young too, but she remembers stuff,” he said, looking at Marti. “I tried telling her she’d dreamed the whole thing, but she's too smart for that shit."

Casey chuckled humorlessly under her breath, regaining his attention. "Did they fight a lot? Your parents?"

Derek nibbled on the inside of his bottom lip, recalling the multiple fights he had overheard as a kid. "You know my dad, he's pretty chill. He tried to keep it down for us, but... when mom was mad, she wouldn't give a fuck about anything else, really." 

His hands began to stroke Marti’s back soothingly, searching for something to focus on when her eyes were almost intimidating over him. When did that happen? He was the one who intimidated her with a single look. 

"Then one day she was gone. Dad said she had a work thing, but she didn't come back that day."

Casey furrowed her brows, indignant. " _She didn't talk to you_?" 

"Oh, no, she _did_. Saturday, that same week. Said she and dad ' _loved each other very much, but couldn't live together anymore_ '," he quoted sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"I guess it's standard divorce speech."

He snorted. "I guess."

"How did you take it?"

Derek swallowed, feeling the old pang of resentment run through his body like a stream of cold air during a Winter night. "I was relieved." 

"Relieved?"

"Well, yeah. When you don't have to wake up in the middle of the night to try to calm your siblings down anymore, it’s pretty great."

Casey nodded comprehensively. He rubbed the back of his hand against his nose again, shaking his head to keep those memories away. The routine he had established as a kid was hard to break after so many years; sometimes he still woke up in the middle of the night only to ascertain his siblings weren’t crying for him; only to make sure there were no screams. 

"But then they cry anyway because they want their mom and you get fucking angry," he muttered bitterly. "I hated her for a really long time."

“I’m sorry.”

He scrunched up his nose. “Doesn’t matter.”

"Yeah, it does."

Derek’s eyes flickered back to hers, charged with a mix of bewilderment and apprehension. As if he had just noticed how much he had shared with her and how legitimate her concern for his feelings were. She shouldn’t look at him with those eyes; she shouldn’t exhibit any traces of compassion or admiration. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want to feel what it made him feel.

So he sighed, rolling his eyes only to set them on his shelf above her shoulders, closing his lips in a straight line as a clear sign that the discussion was over.

Marti’s breathing changed pace as she adjusted her body next to Derek’s, sinking her face into his chest. Her arms were loose around his waist, too short to reach the other side. He slid one hand from her tiny shoulder to her forearm, resting there. 

"You’re a good brother, Derek," Casey whispered. “They’re lucky to have you.”

He was used to compliments. Girls were regularly lavishing praise upon him and he liked it; it was good for his ego. But those were thoughtless words, instigated by his looks and charms. But what Casey did was different—it was always different. She picked out something he thought to be hidden perfectly well, with a precision he would never understand, and she found things about him. Good things. Things no one would even bother to seek after. 

And it always made him soften a little bit more for her. 

Derek cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the silence that followed and Casey’s incessant search for his eyes. She might have noticed it, because when he glanced at her again, she closed her eyes. 

They didn’t say another word after that.

***

It was past five when the sluggishness of mental and physical exhaustion overwhelmed his body, finally allowing him to rest. In between checking Marti’s temperature and fighting his own mind, Derek couldn’t keep his eyes closed for longer than an hour. 

He had gotten used to not sleeping in the past few months; sure, college had its special role in the matter, but with Casey’s help, he had managed to keep his grades up and even—secretly—enjoy his new-found ability to learn and do a good job. He was an athlete, he liked to be rewarded for being good at things. He knew his sleepless nights had less to do with preparing for exams and presentations and more with the annoying feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought of Casey. 

Caffeine helped; sharing a bed with her definitely didn’t. 

He heard the soft clatter of a drizzle drumming against his window; then, he felt a warm, steady stream of air tickling the curve of his neck. His arm tingled under the weight of Marti’s head, feeling colder than the rest of his body, still covered by the blanket. In an attempt to change its position, he shifted a little, hearing a soft sigh that stiffened his body in response.

Derek fluttered his eyes open and cursed under his breath. 

It wasn’t Marti.

Casey slept peacefully next to him; her cheek on his shoulder, her hair spread like a halo around her head and over his arm. Her chest rose and dropped in three-second-intervals—not that he was counting,—her breath caressing the sensitive skin on his neck like a plume. Her face was so close that his chin brushed her forehead. 

He almost cursed again at the stupidly juvenile reaction of his heart, poking him with wavering thuds against his ribs. An unwelcome reminder that his feeble grip on control was a result of his own questionable decision to care about her. 

Derek swallowed, angling his head up to break the physical contact, although her hand was still as firmly planted on his chest under the blanket, practically searing his skin. He dipped his chin, letting it graze her forehead again. Obeying the obscure part of his brain, he moved closer, connecting their bodies; her warmth sent small electric waves coursing through his body, like a cup of hot tea in the middle of December. 

Slowly, he nuzzled her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo; the heady smell of vanilla made him close his eyes as he convinced himself that he needed to recover what was left of his almost nonexistent self-control. But then again, when would he have another opportunity to hold her so close? 

He was actively contemplating brushing his knuckles across her cheeks like he wished to do during the night, just to feel the texture of her skin, when he heard a sneeze. Derek froze in place, his restless hand grabbing the hem of his shirt to keep him from denouncing himself.

He moved his arm from under Casey’s head as quickly and carefully as he could, and she sighed again, rolling her body to face the opposite side. His heart was speeding up again, like he had been caught stealing. 

Putting on the deadpan mask he knew so well, he sat up, finding Marti perched on the chair across the room; she had her legs crossed, his phone in her hands, her apologetic eyes boring into his with a light glimmer he recognized very well. A half-hidden playfulness that instigated and concerned him at the same time. 

It was like she knew it.

Suddenly he wondered if he had been ignoring her savviness, misconstruing it and labeling it as children’s antics. She was teasing Casey about Sally during the night; she had asked him about his feelings for Sally when the subject had never come up before; she had affirmed Derek liked Casey, asking him to tell her. 

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you doing up?”

“It’s nine a.m.,” she pointed out, showing him his phone screen, although he couldn’t read the time from that distance. “I was hungry.”

He nodded, briefly glancing at Casey before rubbing his eyes and getting out of bed. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

“I already ate.”

Derek crouched down in front of her, snagging his phone out of her hands. “Did I give you permission to use my phone?” he asked, playfully. 

Marti smiled. “We don’t ask permission.”

He pinched her nose with a smile that mirrored hers. “Good girl. How are you feeling?” he asked, touching her forehead with the back of his hand. Her skin was as warm as his. 

“Fine. My head doesn’t hurt anymore,” she said. “I’m just sneezing a bit.”

“Good.”

“Sally texted you,” she said, grimacing as she tapped the screen with her finger. 

Derek checked his messages, noticing she had already opened them. He read the text while Marti observed him with her curious eyes, her crossed legs jiggling as she waited. 

_Hey, are you guys coming to the party tonight? I’ll text you the address just in case, hope you can make it :)_

**_\- S._ **

“You’re going to a party?” Marti pried.

“I _was_ ,” he answered, starting to type a reply. “But you need my services more than I need alcohol.” He paused for a second and lifted his head to look at her. “Don’t tell dad I told you that.”

Marti chuckled, stealing the phone from him. “Casey was invited too, right?”

Derek frowned, studying his sister’s face for a moment. Marti had her eyebrows slightly raised, head partially turned, avidly waiting for him to answer. 

“Yeah... why?”

She shrugged, clicking the button that shut the phone off. “You two came here to have fun.”

“Marti…” He knelt down on the floor when his ankles began to hurt and placed both his hands on her knees. “Is there something going on here?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, resorting to the innocent tone she had perfected over the years. “I’m just saying you should go out. I could stay with Dimmy’s parents. They said it’s fine.”

“Wait, you invited yourself to sleep at their place?”

“Yeah, why?”

Derek laughed, gently tapping her knees with his hands. “We suck that bad?”

“Of course not, Smerek,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But you guys came home to stay with your friends and have fun. Plus, Dimmy has a giant TV in his room and his mom lets us stay up late eating popcorn.”

“Cool. But you have a cold, so I guess you’re going to have to make do with me.”

He motioned to get up, but Marti grabbed his shoulders, leaning forward. He steadied himself holding the edge of the chair. 

“I’m fine,” she argued, pointing at her own face. “See? I’m not even sneezing anymore.” As if on cue, however, she cupped her nose with her hands and sneezed. “Shoot. But I’m fine, really,” she insisted. 

“Marti, what the hell is going on?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” she insisted. “You want to go out and I want to watch ‘Up’ on a giant screen.”

Evidently, that wasn’t Marti’s motivation by any means; prying wouldn’t get him very far, because everything she knew of the art of deceiving and lying came from him. But he couldn’t shake the idea that she just _knew_. But even if she did, why would she advocate in his favor? Why would she think it appropriate to support the idea? She _was_ just a child, but she was old enough to understand how their family worked. That Casey wasn’t their sister. _Right?_

_It doesn’t make any sense._

He was paranoid. That could be the only answer; his feelings were clouding his brain and he couldn’t see past his fear that people would notice it. That _Casey_ would notice it. What would he do, then? 

“Blow them up, make it rain!” Marti’s gleeful chant roused him from his thoughts and he turned his eyes to the TV, where her character in the game they were playing shot dead a group of walking zombies. “Who wants some brain? Oh, it rhymes!”

Derek laughed, fascinated by Marti’s excitement. 

“Der- _ek_ ,” Casey chided from the kitchen, “can you please not play these violent stupid games with your sister?” 

She was still eating breakfast, having woken up a few minutes after him. On any other day, he would taunt her about him being more responsible than her for being up so early, but he was still too rattled about waking up with her body glued to his and her breath on his neck. He had been crossing too many lines in a short span of time.

“How can you deny a child their entertainment?” he argued, practically seeing Casey’s blue eyes rolling helplessly. 

He heard her phone ring for a few seconds before she answered it, vibrant. “Hey, Em! Yeah, you?” She paused for a second and he risked a glance over his shoulder from the living room, seeing her reorganizing the magnets that held the pictures and notes to the fridge absentmindedly. “No, I don’t think I’m going. Marti’s not feeling well.”

“I heard that,” Marti yelled next to him, not daring to take her eyes off the TV. “Marti’s well. _Bite my dust, you sucker_ ,” she added loudly, cackling when a zombie exploded in front of her character, splashing blood everywhere.

On second thought, Casey was right about their choice of game. 

“Holy shit, what did you do?” Derek chuckled. “That was awesome.”

“Language!” Casey reproached them, going back to her conversation with Emily. “Emily, I can’t just—but what—are you sure? I don’t know, I’ll see about that.” She laughed sarcastically. “Right. Like Derek has _any_ influence over me.”

“Damn right I do!” he retorted from his place, pressing a series of buttons to make his character jump over a moving car and shoot a zombie in the head. “ _Die, you son-of-a-bitch!_ ”

Marti cheered, holding her hand up for a high-five. 

“Der- _ek_.”

“Son-of-a- _malicious-lady_.”

His sister laughed, but he heard the resigned sigh Casey let out when she approached the couch and flopped down onto it. It didn’t take long for Marti to start asking permission to stay at the Davises’ and encourage them to go to the party. Casey denied the request twice before Derek mentioned that Marti _did_ seem well enough to sleep at the neighbors’. He would never agree to it if he didn’t think his sister was fine. And that was probably what convinced Casey. 

“Em _did_ say her parents were on board with taking care of Marti for us tonight,” she said. 

Derek texted Sally to confirm their attendance and Marti could barely hide her excitement, shifting her gaze between them in a suspicious manner. 

_Paranoid._

For good measure, he decided to focus on his sister and avoid conversation or visual contact with Casey for as long as he could. It worked up until they ended up watching Twilight on TV and Marti gradually changed her position on the couch until falling asleep; her head on Derek’s lap, her feet resting on Casey’s thighs.

“Hey, are you okay?” Casey asked, suddenly.

He craned his neck to look at her, blinking. He had been staring at the screen for at least half an hour, lost in thoughts. “Huh?”

“You look a little thoughtful.”

“Yeah, I’m wondering who thought this movie was a good idea,” he joked, giving a scornful look at the TV screen. 

“The books are pretty good,” she defended.

He rolled his eyes, laying his head against the back of the couch. “I’m not going to take your word for it. Your taste in movies and music suck. It must be the same with books.” He turned to her with a grin. “Though that’s not your fault, most books suck.”

“I’m sorry you’re illiterate.”

“I said _most_.”

“Comic books don’t count.”

“ _All_ books suck,” he concluded.

Casey rolled her eyes, but a smile appeared on her lips. He moved his head again, staring upwards; his hand found Marti’s head, gently brushing her hair.

“Is it Sally?”

“What?”

“The reason you’re... acting weirder than normal. Do you still like her?”

“What?” he repeated louder, lifting his head to look at her in puzzlement. _Great._ Marti’s questions from the previous night had passed on to her. “No. Why’s everyone suddenly obsessed with Sally?” 

Casey wetted her lips, fixing her eyes on a losing thread on Marti’s pants. “It’s okay if you do, I was just wondering. You guys only broke up because she had to go away.”

“Sally’s engaged.”

She snapped her eyes up, surprised. “Oh. I didn’t know that.” 

He observed her warily as her countenance changed drastically; her posture relaxed as she nodded, absorbing the news. It piqued his interest. He didn’t want to theorize her demeanor or the way she took a deeper breath after the revelation, but she seemed... relieved? 

“But, I mean... you can still have—” She stopped upon seeing his eyes casting an annoyed look at her. “Sorry. It’s just... you haven’t dated anyone since then, aside from Em. I just assumed you were still... you know.” 

The faintest shade of pink began to color her cheeks. _That_ couldn’t be his paranoia. Whether the subject was simply too uncomfortable for her or... _Nope. Not going there._ He didn’t get to hypothesize. What good would that do? But he could enjoy the opportunity the universe was presenting him. 

“How do you know I haven’t dated anyone?” he teased. “Are you keeping tabs on me, Case?”

She glowered at him, although there were now red spots appearing across her neck, rendering her intimidation ineffectual. He smirked; it was too easy to embarrass her. 

“I meant _seriously_ dating, not...” She took a look at Marti and restrained herself from saying the rest of the sentence. 

“Got it.” He nodded, turning his eyes to the TV for a brief moment before going back to Casey with another grin. “Wait, are we talking about just making out or like, fu—”

“Der- _ek_!”

He chuckled. “Jeez, I’m just teasing. I just don’t have as much time. You kind of take it all up with studying.”

“I told you you don’t have to spend time with me,” she quipped, annoyance clouding her features. 

He sighed, focusing the TV again. “I only do what I want to do, you should know that by now.”

Casey averted her eyes to the TV as well, dropping the subject immediately. With a side glance, he decided that the shield she created between them by pulling her hair to one shoulder, blocking his view of her profile, was a sign that his words had affected her. It brought a smile to his lips. Maybe dubious and ambiguous sentences were the closest he would ever get to truly expressing how he felt.

Surely, he couldn’t be _that_ unlucky to have Casey thinking he still had feelings for Sally. The thought didn’t leave his mind, prodding at him with a wry humor he despised. It accompanied him throughout the day, although he was an expert at disguising. 

After leaving Marti with the neighbors, he focused on getting ready for the party. He had stringent, solid plans to enjoy the night and at the very least meet someone to occupy his time with. He just needed a girl to keep his mind away from his problems. It was a difficult task, however, when his problem was also invited to the party. 

With a sigh, he spritzed a good amount of body spray on his body and put on a white shirt, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He adjusted the collar and opened up the top button, giving himself an encouraging nod. _You have to keep your shit together to survive this night._

He was on his way out of his bedroom when he heard Casey’s door opening up behind him. 

“Hey, Derek, do you think you can keep my phone in your pocket?”

He whirled around to answer her with a sonant negative—she needed to learn he wasn’t willing to be helpful at all times just because they were closer—but the words got stuck in his throat. 

“It’s just... I don’t have any purse that goes with this dress,” she felt the need to add, probably due to the fact that he was frozen in place, intently staring at her.

He needed a moment to process the image in front of him; Casey looked absolutely stunning in a blue dress, its skirt revealing a great part of her legs and matching the mesmerizing color of her eyes. Her ivory skin seemed to glow, her long hair flowing beautifully over her bare shoulders. He was pretty sure no one should look like that.

_You’re staring. Snap out of it!_

Casey rolled her eyes, squeezing her phone between her hands. “Okay, I know this is ridiculous to you, but it does matter to me. This is the only presentable dress I have right now, so don’t look at me like I’m an airhead.”

_Speak. NOW._

“I—yeah. I have pockets.”

_Very ingenious._

He mentally cursed himself as she gave in to an intriguing smile that lured him into noticing the shade of pink that colored her lips. 

“I figured.”

Derek took her phone and placed it inside his pocket, seizing the opportunity to escape that invisible bubble he had created. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I mean, about—”

He snapped his head up. “If you say Sally, I’ll leave you and take the car.”

She clammed up and acquiesced, straightening the skirt of her dress with her hands. It was just a dress, there was nothing odd about that. He had seen her wearing dresses countless times; but perhaps the newly acquired awareness of his feelings was messing with his head. 

Casey noticed his look. “Is this too much?"

He didn’t want to answer that question. The last time he complimented her, she tried to run away. And he didn’t know how to say she looked beautiful without sounding like a complete idiot. 

"I don't think anyone's going to care." 

_Oh, wow, that was_ clearly _the best alternative._

But Casey didn’t take offense. "Of course, I forgot who I was talking to," she said, chuckling under her breath.

“You look… adequate.”

_Adequate? ADEQUATE? AD-E-QUATE?_

She beamed at him, amused. _Oh, no. Fuck, no. Eyes on her eyes._

“Really?” 

"Yeah. You look—" He gestured absentmindedly, trying to find a word that could satisfy both of them. He scratched the back of his neck, regretting not stopping that conversation when he had the chance. "Uh... yeah." 

"Is that Derek for ‘you look nice’?" 

_Jesus Christ._ He had no idea what was happening to him; it was as if he had never talked to a girl before. Was he losing his game? Desperation began to creep in; his hands felt suddenly damper, his skin hotter with the inability to control his body and what came out of his mouth. He wanted to open up another button of his shirt, but it would definitely not send the right message. 

_Is this what it feels like to be Edwin?_ He would never bully his brother again. 

Derek cleared his throat. “Yeahshouldwegothen?” he murmured, turning around before he could worsen the situation. 

He needed a beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, I was so nervous about making their conversation in bed sound exactly like I imagined it, that's why it took me this long to post. I hope it was worth it ❤️  
> As always, thank you for all the sweet, sweet words you guys left me in the previous chapter. They make me nervous, because it makes me want to write more and better, but they also put a smile on my face haha
> 
> Have a lovely day ❤️


	5. Of Strawberry and the Universe

_“It's the simple things that are so hard to grasp_

_Can't find myself in all the days that passed_

_But I can feel it when it shines_

_Nevermind, I'm falling in love with you”_

_(Heaven - The Fire Theft)_

Casey 

The first thing she noticed after stepping into the lavish apartment in the upscale area of London was that there weren’t as many familiar faces as the last party she had attended. Not that she wouldn’t enjoy reconnecting with old classmates, but Derek’s ruse still worried her. For all she knew, an acquaintance could have heard them or Truman could have told someone about them. 

She almost groaned at the thought of Truman. It was as if he had permanently ruined her experience with parties; his memory always staining the moment like a drop of blood on a piece of white fabric. She could scour it all she wanted without ever getting rid of it. 

But it wasn’t just Truman. Despite running into Kendra—still as raucous and enthusiastic as ever—and being introduced by her to a group of interesting people who made her laugh and had refreshing stories to tell, she couldn’t keep her attention on them for more than five minutes before her eyes traveled on their own volition to where Derek was standing. 

He had found a group of his own, sharing beers and chips on the leather couch, surrounded by music and smoke. Sam, Ralph, Sally and her fiancé were also there. She hadn't had the chance to meet Ryan yet, but judging by the way the group was laughing joyfully at something he was saying, he was a nice person. 

Casey couldn’t brush aside the conversation she overheard between Derek and his sister the previous night; nor the deep conversation _she_ had with him afterwards. It wasn’t only the fact that he supposedly said he would miss her if he had left for Spain, something he would never admit to her. It was the fact he didn’t deny it when Marti accused him of liking her, like he would do any other person who dared to cogitate the idea; it was the fact that he didn’t push her away when she asked him about what was probably the deepest scar in his heart; it was also the way his fingers played with her hair and moved away the second he noticed she was awake. Like he had committed a sin. 

She sighed, averting her eyes to the boy whose name she had already forgotten; he hadn't stopped babbling about something Casey had no idea what was, but everyone at the around him seemed to be entertained. Kendra had her cunning eyes set on him, probably planning on how she would end up in his bed by the end of the night.

“Hey,” Emily touched her arm. Casey’s eyes shot up to look at her. “Want to go grab something to eat?”

She wasn’t hungry and their company wasn’t awful, but if she stood there for longer, she knew her eyes would betray her again and she did _not_ want to spend the whole night secretly watching Derek from afar. He was messing with her head. _She_ was messing with her own head creating scenarios that didn’t exist. 

“Yeah.”

Casey followed Emily to the other side of the room, where a table had been set with bowls of crappy food. Emily reached for a handful of chips and leaned her hip against the edge of the table. 

“What happened?” she asked. 

“What do you mean?”

“You’re unusually quiet.”

She shrugged. “That boy hasn't stopped talking since Kendra introduced us,” she mentioned. It wasn’t a lie. “ _None_ of us had a chance to talk.” 

Emily narrowed her eyes, analyzing her face with vehemence. “You know what I mean. You’ve been acting weird all night.”

“I’m fine, really. Just—”

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Sam chimed in, placing one hand on Casey’s shoulder and the other one on Emily’s. “I need to talk to you,” he told Emily, who nodded promptly. 

She looked at Casey apologetically. “I’ll be right back.”

Casey agreed with her head, watching them walk away, disappearing behind a pillar into a hall. She sighed, wondering if she should have stayed at home like she intended to. She had already made Emily message her parents and they guaranteed her that Marti was perfectly fine, but she wouldn't mind going back and calling it a night. 

“Hey,” a masculine voice said behind her, causing her to jump. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized, greeting her with a broad white smile the moment she turned around.

The boy was tall and well-built, skin and eyes as dark as coffee, matching the adorable curls in his hair. His energy was so delightful that she felt a smile appearing on her lips involuntarily. 

“Hi.”

“Beer?” he offered, and only then she noticed he had a bottle in his hand. 

She shook her head, grimacing. “No, thanks. I kind of hate it.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, placing the bottle on the table next to them and flashing her another smile. “Oh, good, me too. I’ve been pacing around with this thing in my hand to fit in. I’m more of a wine guy myself.”

Casey chuckled, putting a strand of hair behind her ear. Maybe that boy was the sign she needed to step out of her self-flagellation world, induced by a brain filled with thoughts about Derek. 

"I'd be happy with some water," she confessed.

He covered his mouth with his hand, faking skepticism. Then, he leaned forward as if to tell her a secret. “Will it make you feel any better if I tell you I’d choose apple juice from the box over alcohol?”

“Absolutely.”

The boy smiled, subtle lines appearing on the corner of his eyes. “Why don’t you..." he began, pointing at her with an inquisitive look. 

“Casey.”

“Casey, come with me to the kitchen so we can find a bottle of water for you while I, Jacob,” he extended his hand so she could shake it, “tell you how you’re the most interesting person I've met today?”

She felt her cheeks gradually turning hotter and opened her mouth to answer him when she felt a hand on her shoulder. The voice that spoke up made a chill run down her spine and she swallowed up a curse that was dancing on her lips. 

“Jake,” Truman greeted the boy she had been chatting with, shaking his hand. 

“Hey, Truman. Glad you could make it.”

At that point, she was earnestly wondering if she had somehow done something atrocious to deserve the ghost of Truman following her around, prohibiting her from erasing him from her life, decimating that faint memory that insisted on haunting her mind. Good attracts good, bad attracts bad. She did good, but right now, the universe seemed to be conspiring against her. 

"Wouldn't miss one of your parties."

"This is _your_ party?" Casey asked, looking at Jacob, who acquiesced with another gentle smile. 

"Weren't you invited?" Truman asked playfully, squeezing her shoulder. 

Casey shifted a bit until he dropped his hand to the side; the movement didn’t go unnoticed by Jacob, who drew his eyebrows together, but didn't mention it. "You're with Ryan and Sally, right?" he guessed. “I saw you coming in with your friends.”

"Did your _boyfriend_ come, Case?" Truman pried, his tone suggesting the amount of malice she would expect from him.

He wanted to disrupt whatever was happening between her and Jacob and affect her at the same time. It worked; she wanted to put her hands around his neck and press it until he gasped for air. 

Jacob cast her a contrite look, joining his hands in front of his lips as if asking for forgiveness. “Oh, I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

Regaining what was left of her composure, she shook her head and forced a smile. “That’s okay, don’t worry.”

Truman said something, but she was too unnerved and astonished to pay attention to his words; her eyes swept the room around them, stopping when they found Derek again. He was sitting on the couch now, away from the group she had spotted him with before. His arm was stretched over the shoulders of a voluptuous girl that had one leg over his thigh and her hands on his chest. Her heart throbbed painfully against her throat, blocking her airway for a few seconds. She was instantly thrown by the evident intimacy between them, the way the girl whispered something into his ear; it took her a moment to notice Derek was staring back at her. 

She turned her head to Jacob again, her cheeks regaining color with the embarrassment and the irritation. _What did you expect?_ Derek loved parties for two reasons: alcohol and girls. And she didn’t have the right to feel entitled to him or to lose her mind over a revolting feeling of jealousy. _Jealousy? Am I jealous?_

"Jake, mind grabbing me another beer?" Truman patted his friend’s shoulder with a crooked smile.

“Here,” Jacob said, reaching for the beer he had offered Casey. "I'm just walking around with this thing."

"It's probably warm, man."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "I'm not your maid, French." 

“Hey, Jake!” a girl yelled from the crowd behind them. "Come take a look at this!"

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Jacob said, taking one last look at her. “It was nice meeting you, Casey.”

She almost begged him to take her with him, but Truman had already destroyed any possibilities she had to connect with Jacob and she didn’t want to expose Derek’s lie. Now, more than ever, she would hold on to that story if it meant not giving Truman the satisfaction of being right. 

“We just keep running into each other," he mentioned, standing in front of her with his lopsided smile. She couldn’t believe how she had secretly adored that smile at some point in her life.

“How do we make it stop?” she barked, surprised at the sarcasm in her tone. Maybe she had been around Derek too much. 

Truman raised his eyebrows. “I deserve it,” he concluded a second later.

She simply nodded, crossing her arms to keep an invisible barrier between them. It would never cease to surprise her how someone who she once cared deeply about was only capable of causing her disgust now. 

"You're conveniently friends with Jacob?" she asked.

"His brother. Sean from History class, remember?"

She nodded again, uncertain about what she should do next. The other night, when he approached her unnoticed, she didn’t have much time to react. He started a conversation and she followed his lead, too astonished to ask questions or even remember the days she spent crying over how much he had hurt her. 

But now there was that mental image in her brain; the same one she had tortured herself with for what seemed to be an eternity. For a long time, she asked herself if things would have been different had Derek and Emily been there. She knew they wouldn’t, but it was a nice hopeful thought to hold on to. Despite everything, she still wished it was a misunderstanding, that Truman wasn't a bad person. It was easier than accepting the truth and recognizing how blind she had been. 

"Hey, I'm... I'm sorry about how things ended last time," he said, pressing his lips together. He sounded genuine, but she had been through enough to know how undependable he was. 

"Whatever," she muttered.

"I knew you'd understand." His grimace turned into a smile and he took a step forward, holding her chin between his index finger and his thumb.

Casey flinched, batting at his arm until he dropped it. "Don’t touch me,” she warned him. “Truman, we're not friends."

"I know. I'm sorry. I _really_ am. I just—" He sighed, shaking his head as his eyes bore into hers with an intensity that made her recoil. "I missed you. I guess seeing you after all this time made me realize how much."

She chuckled humorlessly. "I'm sure you did."

"I mean it."

"Well, _I_ didn’t,” she retorted. “Not one bit. In fact, I was perfectly happy until you came out of nowhere to ruin everything again and I _really_ don’t want you to ruin tonight as well, so feel free to enjoy the party and pretend I’m not here.”

"Wait," he said tersely, grabbing her wrists before she could leave. 

Her eyes widened at the abrupt touch, instantly reminding her of the night his hands had touched her for the last time. She pulled her hands violently to herself and he let out a defeated sigh.

“I told you not to touch me.” 

"Yes, I know. I’m sorry.” He let his arms fall to his sides. “I was an ass. I know that. Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson and I tried to reach out to apologize, but I couldn’t. I figured you’d blocked my number.”

“What did you expect?”

He nodded, solemn. “But it’s a good thing I ran into you, because I need you to know how sorry I am. People change, Casey, and I don't want you to hate me. I don't want things to get weird between us." 

“Look, this is probably the last time we’ll ever see each other,” she said. “If you have any expectations to keep a friendship or whatever—”

"I'm transferring to Queen's next week."

Casey paused her own rant immediately, widening her eyes to the boy in front of her. An unpleasant feeling coursed through her body, like a snake wrapping around her stomach. _You have got to be kidding me._ With her mouth open in skepticism, she shook her head. 

"What?"

"That's why I'm in town. I'm staying with my family until I move to my new apartment in Kingston."

" _What_?" she repeated, louder. Either she had imagined that exchange or the universe was really conjuring a complot against her.

Truman dared to give her that stupid crooked smile again. "That's why this is so important to me, Casey. We're going to be seeing a lot of each other now and I just don't want you to hate me."

She blinked. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you transferring?"

He shrugged. "I just... needed someplace new."

"What, did you harass someone else and got expelled?"

Truman’s eyes darkened, but he kept a neutral expression on his face that soon twisted into resignation. “I didn’t fit there. And, well... since things didn’t end very well between us and knowing _Derek_ is not a big fan, _and_ assuming we’ll be running into each other very often...”

The mention of Derek’s name brought her back to reality in an instant, like a bucket of cold water had been thrown at her. In Truman’s head, she was dating Derek. He was transferring to their college. He would _see_ them in college. He would expect them to be _together_. _In college._

Granted the campus was big enough for them to never even see each other, but she couldn’t invalidate the possibility of them having classes in common or meeting in the cafeteria. Did she have to pretend to be dating Derek from now on? Would she have to carry that lie around like a tie around her neck, ready to suffocate her? 

"Casey?"

Anxiety was silently creeping in, accelerating her heart and heating up her body. Her hands felt damp and she subtly rubbed them against the fabric of her dress.

“Um..." She swallowed, forcing the anxiety down her throat. “Derek hates you. There’s nothing you can do to change that.”

“Do _you_?” he retorted, his eyes a little wider with the expectation. “Hate me?”

Casey covered her face with her hands for a moment, retrieving her sanity. She didn’t hate him—frankly, she wasn’t sure she was capable of hating another human being. But the taste of sorrow and pain and humiliation he left with his actions would never leave her. Not entirely. 

“I came close to it,” she revealed. “But all I feel is disgust. I don’t want to be your friend, Truman.”

He stared at her intently, acquiescing as he absorbed the words. His expression grew more serious, slightly tinged with sadness.

“Can I just ask you something?” 

“What?”

“How did it happen?”

"What?"

"You and Derek,” he replied. Her stomach twitched, the result of hearing his name combined with hers, like a magic word that set a swarm of butterflies batting their wings inside her. “I'm just having a hard time believing it. You _hated_ him, Casey."

"People change. You said it yourself."

“So you love him now?"

“ _What_?” Her voice sounded higher, incredulous. _What kind of question is that?_ She definitely didn’t want to discuss an intimate matter regarding her fake boyfriend with her ex-boyfriend.

_When did my life become this?_

"I'm sorry," he apologized, rolling his eyes. "It's hard to wrap my head around it. Just now you were here with Jake while your boyfriend is nowhere to be found." 

Casey repressed the urge to look in Derek's direction. If Truman found him next to the girl she had spotted him with just minutes before, the farse would leave her humiliated. 

“What, you think we’d just make that up for you?” _Yes. Yes, you would._ “The world doesn’t spin around you, Truman. And why can't I talk to boys? It doesn't mean anything.” She sighed, her heart beginning to drum against her ears now. “I need a drink."

"Let me get it for you," he offered eagerly. 

Casey opened her mouth to deny it, but she fathomed it was a great opportunity for her to escape the moment he turned around. She needed to find Emily as soon as possible and go home.

"Okay."

Truman smiled, winking at her before finally leaving. The air felt lighter and she took a deep breath, watching his back as he moved farther away. Casey waited a few seconds to turn and take the first step towards the hall, where she would find Emily. However, her plans were postponed the moment she collided with someone.

“Oh, sorry, I—” she stopped as she raised her head to meet Derek’s eyes. He held her arms in order to steady her and she couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped her lips. “Thank God.”

Derek’s mouth curved into a heartfelt smile that reached his eyes and made her exhale the air too quickly. He almost never allowed himself to smile genuinely. 

“That’s a first.”

“Truman's here."

"I know," he said, only then withdrawing his hands from her arms. "Do you want to go somewhere?"

It must have been the hazy atmosphere he had brought along with him, or the intensity he added to his gaze, but for a second, she thought he was suggesting they left the party and went somewhere else, away from all those people. _Alone_.

“We can leave if you want,” he added, leaving her no other option but to feel a flush creeping up her face. What was happening to her? 

“Oh.” She shook her head, hiding the embarrassment as best as she could. “No, that’s... fine.”

Derek squinted his eyes, clearly unconvinced. “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing. He was just trying to apologize. _And_ trying to break me."

"Is this about the dating thing?” he guessed. “You _could_ just leave the conversation, you know?"

"That’s what I was doing.”

"It doesn't matter what he thinks. You'll never see him again after tonight. _Hopefully_ ," he added, rolling his eyes. 

Casey lowered her head for a moment, sighing deeply. “Except I will, though,” she countered, looking up at him again. “He's transferring to Queen's."

Derek frowned. " _What_?" he practically yelled, eliciting looks from a few people near them. There was a different emotion in his eyes, a type of incredulity mixed with vexation as his gaze stopped somewhere behind her. He clenched his jaw. "Fucking hell."

“Is he back?”

Derek sighed. “Yeah,” he said, dropping his gaze to her again. "It's fine, Casey,” he continued, an unusual serenity to his voice and demeanor, giving the topic. “It's a big campus. You won't even have to see him."

"We don't know that. He might have classes with us, he might run into us at the cafeteria or the library or befriend _our_ friends and tell them something, and with this story you made up—"

"It's not that big of a deal."

"It kind of is."

"Casey."

"It is to _me_ , okay?" she snapped, looking away. “How pathetic if he finds out I’m lying.”

“ _I_ lied.”

Casey turned her head to him again. “I’m part of the lie.”

“Then he doesn’t find out.”

She had her mouth open with another comeback ready to get out, but was silenced at the total comprehension of his words. She snapped her mouth shut, completely aware of the way her heart reacted to him, and steered back.

“Wha—what do you mean?”

Derek stood still, observing her with a fervor she wasn’t ready to deal with. She would never be ready to be at the receiving end of that look. Suddenly, every sound in the room was blocked out, but the sound of her own heart hammering against her ears, her throat, her poor chest. She could feel it everywhere as Derek kept staring at her, blatantly, without saying a single word. 

With one quick look cast in the direction Truman had gone to, he liberated her from his magnetic gaze. She took a deep breath, shaken by the mess of emotions he was causing on her. But just as quickly, he locked her inside that personal bubble again, reaching for her wrist to pull her to him. She bumped into his chest, staring up at him wide-eyed. She was positively certain that her heart was failing at its function, pumping blood in a dangerously frantic rhythm. 

"Derek, w-what are you doing?"

"I'm going to kiss you."

"What?"

His answer was replacing his hand on her waist to pull her closer, while the other flew up to the back of her neck. She vainly tried to search for his eyes, but they were dangerously fixed on her lips. She was about to say his name—for him to stop it? For her to remember what they were doing? She didn’t know—when he pressed his mouth to hers. 

The shock that naturally overwhelmed her body instantly tensed up every muscle, leaving her frozen in place. Her skin crawled with the inordinate set of emotions that dueled inside of her; every centimeter of her body seemed to come alive like a blaze of fire upon the feeling of his hands on her. He had never touched her. He had never _kissed_ her.

 _You’re kissing Derek!_

He pulled away just enough to whisper, “You have to kiss me back.” 

His lips brushed hers with every word, sending a shiver down her spine. She wanted to open her eyes and end that nonsensical hysteria before she fell deeper into that inky dark hole with no way out. But his breath was tickling her skin and her stomach was tied into knots, begging her to oblige; to accept that rush of excitement and adrenaline that flooded her when his lips touched hers for the first time. 

Casey licked her lips, nodding in agreement. One second later, his fingers tangled into her hair and he kissed her again. Her trembling hands instinctively rose up to his chest, sliding up to fold around his neck. This time, she opened her mouth and kissed him back, slowly moving her head from side to side, following that overpowering dance he led so skillfully. 

His lips tasted like beer and strawberry; it took her a few seconds to realize it was her lipstick. Her strawberry-scented lipstick was on his mouth; he tasted like _her_. The thought weakened her knees and she leaned her body against him, which made Derek loop an arm around her waist. She felt his muscles tightening around her, pressing her closer to him and a groan escaped her mouth.

It was all too much. His ragged breath against her, the trail of fire his touch was leaving on her skin, his lips gently sucking on hers, the unhealthy beating of her heart inside her chest. She would soon combust if he didn’t stop. 

As if listening to her thoughts, he slowed down, coming to a stop. Casey slid her hands to his shoulder, squeezing it for support. She wasn’t sure she could trust her own legs to carry her weight right now. She noticed she was panting; the action of breathing physically hurt her lungs.

Casey snapped her eyes open and out of that foggy afterglow the moment she recovered her senses and made herself aware of the sounds around them. She stared at Derek, who was already shaking his head, as if asking her not to have any drastic reaction. Before she could even think of something to say, he grabbed her hand and led her towards the first room he could find.

She entered a bathroom, shoving her face into her hands; her entire nervous system seemed to be about to collapse. She heard Derek closing the door and lifted her head to glower at him. 

He raised his hands in redemption. “Just breathe.”

“ _Just breathe_?”

“Or don’t.”

She let out a sarcastic laugh, covering her mouth with one hand. Shaking her head, she pointed at the door behind him. “There are a lot of people out there.”

“I know.”

“What the fuck were you thinking, Derek?”

He raised a brow at her cursing. “You _agreed_.”

“Not to _kissing_!”

“You _kissed me_ _back_!”

“You _told_ me to!”

The familiarity of the childish arguments they frequently started made her sigh in frustration and run her hand through her hair. She couldn’t discern her own feelings; was she mad at him for kissing her? Was she mad at _herself_ for enjoying it? 

“Oh, come on. It’s just a kiss, Casey. Stop being a baby.”

She opened her mouth in incredulity, narrowing her eyes at him. Derek rolled his eyes, his infuriating tranquility making her groan. She stomped towards him, jabbing one finger into his chest. 

“You have some nerve, you... you... _fucking asshole_!”

Derek bit the inside of his cheek in an attempt to suppress a laugh, which only made her bristle and smack his chest with her fists. She struck him continuously as he gave in and chuckled, trying to defend himself with his hands.

“It’s not funny, Derek! It’s one thing to _make up_ a story, it’s another to _kiss_ me in front of a bunch of people. There might be _actual_ consequences, can you imagine what would happen if someone told our parents or if they—”

His hands easily wrapped around her wrists, immediately putting a stop to her attack and her frantic rant. He sighed as if her worrying was pointless. 

“So what?” 

She gasped, incredulous. “You’re okay with our parents thinking we’re dating?” 

“What about it?”

“ _What about it_?” 

She tried to hit him again, but the hands that were clutching her wrists tugged them closer to his torso; Casey could feel her elbows digging on his diaphragm. Their bodies were practically glued, her forearms firmly pressed against his chest. She drew a sharp breath, her expression morphing into trepidation. There was her heart again, beating incoherently.

“I don’t see the problem here,” he said, and she had to hold on to the tiny portion of self-control she still possessed to not look at his lips. His lips that had been on hers only minutes ago. His lips that tasted like her. “We’re not teenagers anymore, we don’t live under their rules. I’m not your brother, Casey.”

She opened her mouth, struggling to come up with a reply. Derek observed her with interest, no traces of playfulness or mocking in his eyes. She did not want to think about the implications of his suggestion. She did not want to consider the fact that he was blatantly pointing out that there was nothing wrong about them having a relationship. Because that wasn’t real.

“I can’t understand you, Derek. Weren’t you the one feeling weird with the way our family was looking at you when we got home? Now you’re suddenly okay with... _this_?”

Derek shook his head. “I’m tired.”

“You're... tired? Of what?”

He let his eyes wander somewhere above her head, thoughtful. “Of pretending.”

Casey blinked, caught off guard by the way his voice sounded solemn, something she barely ever heard in his tone— _if_ ever. She couldn’t remember. But something about it made her heart pound a little faster.

“Pretending?” she prodded, given that it didn’t seem like he would elaborate on his own. 

His eyes flicked back to hers as if he had momentarily forgotten that she was there. He loosened his fingers around her wrists without letting them go completely; Casey could simply pull them to herself, but she didn’t. 

“That nothing’s changed.”

She swallowed, keenly aware that _everything_ had changed. _They_ had been changing ever since leaving London for the first time and it seemed absolutely appropriate and ironic that Derek had been the one setting one more change when they came back to that place. Because, at least for her, there was no going back from kissing him. 

“Casey, it was just a kiss,” he repeated, softer this time. Her eyes dropped to his chest, both for safety and to hide her embarrassment. “You don’t have to freak out about it. It didn’t mean anything.”

Unable to stop herself, she shut her eyes for a few seconds. She knew it didn’t mean anything, there was no need to disclaim it. But hearing it hurt. 

When he applied a bit of pressure to her wrists again, she opened her eyes to his chest; she noticed that two buttons of his shirt had been unmade, exposing the skin below. Her mind traveled back to the beautiful girl he had been talking to before he bumped into her. 

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Okay,” he whispered back. “Can I let you go now or will you start hitting me like a psycho again?”

Her eyes drifted back to his as she nodded silently. Derek mimicked her and released her wrists, showing her his hands as if on a peacekeeping mission. She took a step back, still holding his gaze. 

“I think you blew your chances with that girl,” she blurted out. It wasn’t a point of pride for her, but internally she felt avenged. For what? She had no idea.

Something flashed in his eyes. “Yeah, probably.”

She let her eyes dart around his face until they stopped on his lips; she hadn’t noticed the faint pink of her lipstick shamelessly spread across them. He wetted his lips and she cleared her throat, taking another step back as she touched her own mouth to illustrate. 

“My... lipstick.”

Derek wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, but there were still traces of color there. Traces of _her_. 

“Just..." She minimized the space between them, raising her own hand to rub her thumb over the corner of his lips. 

She clearly hadn’t thought that through and blamed it on the sluggishness in her brain caused by his presence. Derek’s lips parted as she outlined his bottom lip with her finger, his eyes searching for hers despite her mission to keep her gaze solely fixed on her movements. Flashes of their kiss ran through her mind for a few seconds and she gasped quietly, taking two steps back. What was he doing to her?

“There,” she concluded. “You should go, I’ll... I need to use the bathroom,” she lied, eager to escape his insistent eyes. 

Derek nodded, sliding his hand across his mouth once again. He seemed momentarily lost and Casey felt instantly worried, because Derek had always been able to put on a stoic mask on his face whenever something troubling happened. A minute before he was cool and collected. Why was he so shaken now?

She looked at the door, waiting for him to move. He uttered an agreement and finally left the room, leaving enough space for her to inhale oxygen and welcome it into her poor lungs. Casey leaned her back against the door and covered her face with her hands in a total state of stupor. 

***

She barely acknowledged her surroundings as she made her way to the door, head sagging forward to avoid visual contact with any human being, his taste still impregnated in her mouth like a heavenly dessert one couldn’t stop craving after having the first bite.

“Casey, wait!” Emily called after her. 

She elbowed her way through a group of people blocking the entrance door and opened it with a liberating sigh, stopping in the hall the moment someone grabbed her arm. 

“I’m in heels, girl,” Emily chided, closing the door of the apartment while still holding her arm with her free hand. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

Emily dropped her hand, instantly softening her expression. She let out a deep sigh and nodded. “Okay, I understand you’re freaking out, but—”

“God, did you _see_ that?” Casey fretted, flustered. “Great, _everyone_ saw it.”

Emily shrunk her shoulders, chewing on her bottom lip. “You know what? I wouldn’t worry about it,” she said, touching her comfortingly. “People were too busy getting high. And drunk. Even if they saw it, they either don’t know who you are or can’t remember your names.”

She had a point. Three-quarters of that crowd didn’t even know their names and the other part that did, probably couldn’t remember their _own_ names in their current state. But _Emily_ had seen it and it was enough to make her feel ashamed—and guilty for enjoying it. 

“Just tell me what’s going on,” Emily asked, softly. “I mean, besides... _that_.”

“ _That’s all_ that’s going on, Emily,” she replied, a little harsher than what she intended. 

“Right. But maybe this isn’t such a big deal, you’re just making it bigger than it needs to be. You _did_ go along with Derek’s story the other night.”

Casey couldn’t help the sarcastic chuckle that left her lips. “It’s just a kiss, right?” Derek’s speech was still seared into her brain, burning her from the inside. 

Emily shrugged. “I mean... yeah.”

“Well, maybe it doesn’t mean anything to you or to him, but it does to me. I don’t just kiss people. It’s a big deal to me.”

“Is that the problem?”

“What?”

“That it supposedly didn’t mean anything to him?”

_Yes._

“No!” She closed her eyes to mentally curse herself and shook her head. When Emily squeezed her arm, she snapped her eyes open again. “You know what the problem is? Truman is transferring to Queen’s and now he thinks we’re dating and I don’t know what the hell we’re going to do about this lie Derek made up.”

Emily gaped at her. “He’s transferring to _Queen’s_?”

“Yes.”

“Well, holy fucking shit.” She looked briefly at the door and then back at Casey. “Look, if this is bothering you so much, just end it. Fuck what Truman thinks, just tell him to fuck off if he ever comes near you.”

Casey knew it wasn’t that complex. She shouldn’t have participated in that sick story Derek came up with to eliminate Truman from her life, because now it had the opposite effect. Only she also knew, in that dark part of her brain, that she didn’t want to end it. She wanted to keep going, step further into the madness and fall deeper and deeper into the abyss. She knew she would get hurt in the end, but the adrenaline before the fall was too compelling.

“You’re right,” she agreed. 

“Aren’t I always?” Emily smiled, swiftly capturing Casey’s hands inside hers. “Do you want to talk?”

“No. I really don’t. I just want to go home.”

“What’s your plan?”

“Getting a cab.”

“Text me when you get home?”

“Derek has my phone.”

Emily released her hands and motioned to turn around. “I’ll go get it for you.”

“No,” Casey hastened to say, pulling Emily by the hem of her shirt. “Just let me use yours.”

Emily reluctantly reached for her phone in the back pocket of her jeans and Casey called a cab. Thanks to the favorable location, a car was already awaiting her in five minutes and she had never felt a bigger relief than in the moment she sat down in the backseat and gave the driver her address. Fortunately, the driver wasn’t much of a talker and she didn’t need to fill in the silence with banal chatting. 

Her feet hurt and a faint headache began to give its first signs when she flopped down onto the couch of the dark living room of her house. But the overall exhaustion that overwhelmed her body had little to do with physical fatigue. She didn’t want to think about Derek, but every time she tried to divert her thoughts to something neutral, they swerved around it and went back to him. 

Casey groaned, snapping her eyes shut to let her head fall against the back of the couch. He kissed her and there was no coming back from it. No one had ever kissed, touched, held her like that. Or maybe they had, but it never meant anything because it wasn’t him. 

She wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what was happening inside her, like a natural disaster that couldn’t be prevented, only causing catastrophic sequelae. It had been haunting her for a long time, that feeling of need. Of longing. Of wanting and reproaching herself for it. Casey rummaged through her brain in search of the reason why it happened, or the moment when she knew, and there was only a blur of images and feelings that overlapped like a calamitous web of confusion. One day she dreaded her mother’s decision to marry George, the next she looked at Derek and thought of him as home. 

There had been countless times when she found herself looking up from her textbooks while he fully concentrated on a hockey game, his fists curled into balls and his body projected forwards like he was ready to jump into the screen, and she couldn’t shake the idea that it was supposed to be that way. That he was a piece of home, one she had begrudgingly taken with her to Kingston, only to find out she needed it. She missed her family, but she had _him_.

Casey sighed, opening her eyes to the darkness. She took off her shoes and grabbed the comforter that Marti had left on the couch to cover her legs, folding them under her body. She picked up the remote and let her mind wander naturally as she flicked through channels. 

The brightness of the screen hurt her eyes, but after an episode of a lousy cooking reality show, she grew used to it. Her thoughts had finally become safer as she decided to change the channel once again, only stopping when she recognized a scene from a movie that was playing. The universe’s sense of humor waved at her with a devious wink again. 

Clueless had always been one of her favorite movies, since it was a modern adaptation of her favorite book from Jane Austen, Emma. But now she hated it. She hated it more than she had ever hated anything in her life.

Hanging on to her masochist side, she placed the remote by her side and let the movie play. It wasn’t its fault that it held similarities to her own life. It wasn’t its fault that the main characters were step-siblings who were unlucky enough to fall in love with each other. She almost laughed at the unfairness of it all. 

Casey had been so focused on the screen, her eyes wide with interest as the plot developed, that she jumped when an arm appeared by her side, stealing the remote from the couch. She looked up to see Derek nimbly jumping over the back of the couch to sit by her side. 

“What are you watching?” 

He had added a considerable distance between them, which didn’t go unnoticed and unappreciated by her, but her heart insisted on pounding unhealthily against her ribs anyway. Suddenly, she found herself acutely aware of the fact that they were completely alone in the dark, taunted by that damn movie of all. 

Derek turned his head to watch the screen, but her eyes were firmly set on his profile. It was as if nothing had happened between them. His countenance was as calm and relaxed as it would have been on any other day. She hated him for it. 

“Dear Lord, what is this?" He grimaced. 

"A movie."

"Loving the sarcasm. I’m such a good influence on you," he said, his eyes still on the TV as he smirked and shifted on the couch to reach for something in his pocket. He handed her her phone, finally drifting his eyes to her. “You could’ve told me you wanted to go home." 

Casey took her phone, careful not to touch his fingers as she did so, choosing to stay silent. She didn’t trust herself when she was near him now that she knew what he tasted like. Would it ever go away? It seemed as if everything had changed once he decided to cross that line. She couldn’t think properly or even suppress the urge to grab his face and kiss him again. She wondered if she would taste the strawberry again if she did it.

"Could’ve saved some money,” he added.

"I figured you'd be spending the night somewhere else." In someone else's _bed_ , precisely. 

"Nope," he said, plainly, and she hated how relieved she felt. “So, are we cool?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That’s not very convincing.”

She sighed in frustration and turned to him. “Derek, I know this whole thing is like _nothing_ to you, but it isn’t to me, okay?”

He looked at her with narrowed eyes, biting the inside of his bottom lip. Either he knew the effect he had on her and was consciously taunting her, or he was completely clueless. _Clueless. Good one, universe!_ She shifted her eyes to the TV, mentally cursing at the irony of the moment. 

“What _exactly_ is like nothing to me?”

There was definitely a dose of humor in his tone, which ensured her that he was, indeed, teasing her. She didn’t reply; if he wanted to play games, she wouldn’t entertain him. But Derek was persistent; he continued to stare at her profile, challenging her with his silence. When it was clear that she wouldn’t give in, he fully turned to her, folding one leg under his body. His knee touched her thigh under the comforter and she sucked in her breath. 

“I’m offering to talk. You should take the opportunity.”

“What an honor to have your time,” she quipped.

“Casey.”

She finally looked at him. “I don’t want to do this.”

Derek carefully studied her face and she envied his capacity to repress a visible reaction. Then he nodded slowly, resting his elbow on the back of the couch, his hand hanging close to her shoulder. Somehow, it seemed like he was invading her personal space. 

“Okay,” he complied.

“Okay?” 

She honestly didn’t know why she was expecting him to argue about that decision. He obviously wouldn’t want to keep the act, especially if it ruined his personal life. He had already missed his chance with a girl that same night. Although she was sure he had found someone else to keep him occupied. The thought prodded at her heart with a bitter twinge. 

Derek shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah. Like I said, I’m pretty sure we won’t bump into Trashbag French on campus,” he mentioned. “And if we do and he asks about us, you tell him it’s none of his business and kick him in the balls. Or start screaming ‘stranger danger’.”

Casey smiled involuntarily, earnestly fascinated by the way he could instigate different emotions on her during the same conversation. His lips mirrored hers and she instantly recalled the way she shamelessly cleaned her lipstick off that same mouth just hours before.

“Are we cool _now_?” he tried.

“Yeah.”

He nodded again and straightened his body, inevitably scooting closer to her. "So what's this movie about?" he asked, casually. "So I can decide if I change the channel now or let you have a few more minutes of... fun." He grimaced at the last word.

The movie was evidently not ideal for the situation, and she surely didn’t want to explain it to him. There was an awkwardness connected to watching that specific movie with him. Like watching R rated movies with one’s parents. But then again, she didn’t want _him_ to know she felt weird about it.

 _This is why men don’t understand women, isn’t it?_

"If you change the channel I'll just stand in front of the TV."

"I'm physically stronger than you, you won't even get out of the couch," he threatened her playfully. 

"Don't underestimate me."

He eyed her with his infuriating smirk, raising an eyebrow. "Wanna bet?" 

Was her mind twisting everything he said into something flirty or was he purposefully doing it? She didn’t know, but her heart was clearly suffering from the impact of his actions. So she dismissed his challenge and decided to survive that night with the little bravery she still had within. He went silent and watched the movie with interest, even commenting about a few scenes and scoffing with a frequency that irritated her. The only thing she was certain about was that he knew, by then, the plot. 

She waited and waited, but he never touched the remote. In fact, he only moved it out of his way once in order to share the comforter with her. Somehow, he ended up even closer; she could feel the weight of his shoulder pressed to hers, but it didn’t bother her. There was only an inexorable feeling of outrage regarding his indifference. While she nearly felt her entire body going numb with one single touch, he remained unfazed. He didn’t feel anything.

 _It didn’t mean anything_.

She only realized she had been openly staring at him when he turned to meet her eyes. Adamant about waning the sudden tension that arose, she thought of something to fill the silence with. 

"You're actually enjoying it?" 

"Ironically."

"How can you enjoy something ironically?"

"It's like something is _so bad_ that it's actually good."

She gasped, quickly forgetting about the tension. "It's not bad! It’s based on my favorite book.”

“Hmm,” he began, showing her his crooked smile. “Then I was right, all books suck.”

“You’re an ignorant human being, Derek.”

" _Anyone_ can make a rom-com,” he claimed, receiving a funny look from her. “It's ridiculous. Just put two attractive people together and make them dance around each other until they _actually_ end up together. It's always the same."

She couldn’t argue with that. 

"Well, I want to see how they get there.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “ _Pathetic_.”

"It's supposed to look real."

"So you're saying that’s what would happen in real life?"

"Yes."

"How would you know?"

Casey took a deep breath, silently cursing his raised brows and that tiny little smirk dancing on his lips. His eyes twinkled with a joking mischief she knew very well and she escaped his gaze before she got lost in the deep brown. 

"I wouldn't."

With the corner of her eyes, she could see him turning his attention back to the TV, the smirk intensifying as if he had won an argument. 

"You can change channels if you want," she murmured, quietly wishing he would follow her suggestion. She had never wanted to watch a game of hockey as much as she wanted right now; she would probably sit through a documentary about accountability to end the mortification she felt.

"Nah,” he countered, “now I want to see how they get there."

Determined to not let her emotions consume her, she sank into her seat and laid her head against the back of the couch again, closing her eyes. She quickly estimated another thirty minutes until the end of the movie. She didn’t even realize when the actors' lines on the TV began to serve as a lullaby and gradually helped her drift off to sleep. 

When she woke up, it was darker than before; the TV had been turned off and engulfed the room in sheer darkness. Something moved under her cheek and with a startled beat of her heart, she realized it was Derek’s chest, moving with every breath he took. 

His arm was loosely draped around her, hand limp on her waist. His other hand rested on his thigh and she had a glimpse of his watch, exhibiting the numbers 4:08 in a faint blue light. 

"Shit," she whispered involuntarily, tilting her chin up to look at him without pulling away. 

_Go to your room. Now._

But she didn’t want to obey her own thoughts. The strangely tingly feeling on her body was a consequence of his warm skin against hers; the steady sound of his heart under her ear was progressively calming her own heartbeat. It was nearly comical how her skin felt on fire when he touched her while they kissed that same night, how her nerves buzzed with an urgent feeling unbeknownst to her; yet now, his touch only brought her calmness, a peaceful feeling that was capable of putting her to sleep again if she wanted to. And she wanted to. 

Hesitantly, she moved her hand to rest it against his chest. He flinched. She paralyzed. He was awake. 

Swallowing, she removed her hand as fast as she could and pushed the comforter aside, standing up to run up the stairs like a fugitive. She locked her bedroom door and threw herself on her bed, clutching her pillow against her chest. 

She was a stronger believer that whatever one gave the universe, it would give back. She gave and she gave, but all she received was that ever-growing feeling of helplessness. She couldn’t fall in love with him. That would be against the laws of that same universe that was trying to destroy her. 

_Derek_ was the one who broke laws.

For the first time in her life, she wanted to follow his example.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to use this space to say how much I love those two idiots ❤️  
> -  
> So we got Truman being the scum he is (what else is new?) and Dasey misunderstanding each other (what else is new²?). BUT things are finally starting to happen, so I'm excited about what's coming!  
> I hope you liked this one, and as always, THANK YOU for all the comments and kudos.  
> Have a lovely day ❤️


	6. Of Brothers and Blackouts

_“Look at us, we could have it all_

_So damn right, that it should be wrong_

_Let's not complicate it, if it's love don't hate it_

_Don't pull back if you start to fall_

_Let ourselves get a little lost”_

_(Love Don't Hate It - Duncan Laurence)_

Derek 

He had been staring at the ceiling for so long his head was starting to hurt. His younger self would surely feel offended by his waking up before eight in the morning, immersed in thoughts that didn’t belong in his mind. 

Lately, _none_ of his thoughts seemed to belong in his mind. He simply wasn’t thinking _at all_. He knew it was morally wrong to kiss Casey under the pretext of displaying their supposed relationship to Truman. Yet he did it, anyway. Because at the time, he didn’t have the slightest will to hold back and pretend his hands weren’t yearning to touch her; to know what it felt like to touch her skin and feel her lips over his. He was never able to accept her warmth and her affection before—he _couldn't_ —but now he had a reason to _seek_ it. 

He knew he didn’t stand a chance against himself when he had the perfect opportunity to follow his plan and hook up with a girl whose name he couldn’t remember, and purposefully denied it the second he spotted Casey talking to Jacob Morneau. He wouldn’t intervene; despite the unpleasant pang in his stomach he refused to acknowledge as jealousy, Casey was free to talk to whoever she wanted. But then Truman appeared again— _was he stalking them?_ —and he couldn’t simply _watch_.

He didn’t know when his mind disconnected from his emotions, but suddenly he was kissing her. And he didn’t know how he had it in him to stop it once he started it. For a moment, every centimeter of his body seemed electrified, charged with an intensity he had never felt before. In the back of his mind, there was a tiny voice reminding him how wrong it was, but Casey was surprisingly responsive and it was awfully easy to lose himself to her. 

Perhaps it was that same voice in his head—that bore a striking resemblance to his _old_ self—that stopped him from kissing her again when they were safe inside the bathroom, away from prying eyes. There was that eerily familiar invisible dome around them, marred with tension and desire, but then it was gone. _She_ was gone.

He didn’t even realize it until one beer later, when his eyes looked for her in vain. He would have gone back home immediately if it wasn’t for Emily insisting that he drank an extreme amount of water and waited a few minutes before getting into his car and driving back. He _had_ had alcohol, after all. 

The movie was the pinnacle of his downfall. Whether she was aware of the similarities it held to their own lives, he didn’t know, but he didn’t miss the awkwardness that emanated from her. He teased, and he taunted, but she didn’t give him anything. He couldn’t blame her, not after what he did. Still, the tension was there and it was as tangible as his own skin. 

It wasn’t an accident. When he realized she fell asleep and her head fell naturally on his shoulder, he turned off the TV and nuzzled her hair, listening to her breathing. It was soothing, to the point where he felt his chest filling up, almost overflowing with something he couldn’t name. The moment she woke up, however, he was surprised at her reaction. Maybe she hadn’t fully processed what had happened and her hand spontaneously moved up to his chest; he could almost hear her rushing thoughts telling her to run. She was probably wondering if it was worse to pretend she hadn’t noticed or acknowledge it and then have to pretend it never happened the next day. They were exceptionally good at doing the latter.

“...again. From now on I want you to pretend you don’t even know me, okay?”

Lizzie’s unusually annoyed tone was overheard along with heavy steps, followed by Edwin’s frantic apologies. 

“I’m sorry, Liz. I _swear_ it wasn’t supposed to be him!”

Derek frowned, wondering what the duo was doing back at home when they were supposed to be at camp. Grumbling for being disturbed so early in the morning, Derek dragged himself to his door and found his brother and step-sister facing each other in the hall. 

“Some people are trying to sleep over here,” he complained. 

They both looked at Derek, their expressions neutralizing immediately. 

“Sorry,” Lizzie said.

Derek leaned on the doorframe and rubbed his face, crossing his arms. “Why are you even home?” 

“ _Someone_ ,” she began, looking pointedly at Edwin, “along with his friends, stole Marvin’s clothes, tossed them in the lake and was _kicked out of camp_!”

Derek grinned at his brother, positively impressed. “Nice.”

Edwin flashed him a big, proud smile, shrugging. “Just living up to the Venturi legacy.”

“Not quite there, but baby steps, I guess.”

“Don’t encourage him!” Lizzie complained. “They called mom and George and they had to cut their trip short to bring us home.” She glanced at Edwin again, squinting her eyes. “I’ll make sure they don’t let you get out of the house _for months_. _And_ I’ll tell Hannah you sleep with a teddy bear.”

Edwin gasped, desperately grasping Lizzie’s arms. “ _No_. _Please_ , Lizzie. I’ll do _anything_.”

She rolled her eyes, swatting at his arms for him to let her go. “Pathetic.”

“I second that,” Derek said. 

Edwin sighed; his years of enduring Derek’s insults had made him almost immune to them. “Look, I told you. I didn’t know those were Marvin’s clothes. I was trying to prank _Nate_.”

“That’s not better,” Lizzie quipped. 

“Yes, it is,” Edwin affirmed, almost offended. “He’s a fucking idiot.”

“So are you, but I don’t see anyone stealing _your_ clothes.”

Derek laughed, genuinely amused by the unraveling of that conversation. “Good one, Liz.”

Edwin stared at him in a silent plea, and Derek sighed dramatically, stepping away from the doorframe. He had legitimate doubts about Edwin’s connection to the Venturi family. 

“Lizzie, look at Edwin,” he said, pointing at his brother. “I mean, take a _real_ good look at him. He’s as pathetic as it gets, don’t kick a dog when it’s already down.”

Edwin gaped at him. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.”

Lizzie sighed, turning to Edwin once again. “Just _please_ stop ruining school for me. I can't take four years of this.”

"Okay, I promise. But _please_ don’t tell Hannah anything,” he begged. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll even apologize to Marvin and put on a good word for you.”

“ _Please_ , don’t,” she hastened to say, shaking her head. 

“Are we done, kids?” Derek asked with feigned enthusiasm, without waiting for an answer. “Good. You, inside. _Now_ ,” he told Edwin, gesturing with his chin towards his own room. 

Lizzie sighed, turning to march towards the stairs as Edwin promptly followed Derek’s order, walking to his desk the moment the door was closed. 

“Don’t touch anything,” Derek warned, making Edwin give up on his plan to sit on the chair and stand in the middle of the room instead. 

“I thought it was a good prank,” Edwin said, pursing his lips in a wistful grimace.

“A little childish, but good enough,” Derek conceded, moving to sit on his bed. “You _were_ caught, though. But you have to work on your game if you want to follow the legacy.”

He nodded, crestfallen. “I know, D. I’ve failed you.”

“I mean with the _girls_.”

“Oh.” Edwin raised his head, disguising his uneasiness with a huff and a confident countenance. “Don’t worry about that, bro. I got it.”

“ _Sure_. Look, I know you’re not the most confident guy, you definitely didn’t get the personality or the good looks of the family...”

“That actually hurts.”

“...so we have to work with what we have. You’re a Venturi. The name itself works for you. _You_ have to work _with_ it.”

Edwin hummed in agreement. “Alright. Can I get my notepad so I can write everything down?”

Derek rolled his eyes, but complied. His brother swiftly went back to his room and came back a few seconds later with a notepad and a pen. Perching himself on the edge of the bed, he looked expectantly at Derek. 

“I’m ready.”

Derek flexed one knee, resting his forearm on it. “I have two questions for you first. Who’s Hannah and why do you still sleep with a fucking teddy bear?”

Edwin had the decency to blush—although blushing was almost as embarrassing as admitting to having a teddy bear at the age of fifteen. It didn’t surprise Derek, though. Deep down, he felt a slight admiration towards his brother; despite everything, he wasn’t afraid to be his idiot self. He slept with teddy bears and cried at children’s movies. Derek would never admit to giving in to his guilty pleasures; those were safely hidden somewhere else. 

“I like having something to hang on to, okay? It’s fluffy and comfortable and it feels like a—it’s nice,” he concluded upon seeing Derek’s expression. 

“Okay, I don’t think even _I_ can fix it, but maybe we can—”

Derek paused when he heard a few knocks on his door and turned his face to see Casey’s head poking in. Uncertain about how they would treat the matter of them sleeping next to each other—a-fucking-gain—he simply waited for her to say something. 

Her eyes acknowledged them both without stopping at him for an extra second and he decided it was the best decision she could have made. 

“My mom wants to know if you guys want Chinese for lunch.”

“I’m dying for some dumplings,” Edwin said. 

“Fine with me,” Derek agreed.

Casey nodded, purposefully avoiding his eyes, but didn’t move. She studied the scene before her, frowning at the notepad Edwin was holding against his chest.

“What are you two doing?”

“Nothing,” Edwin babbled, at the same time that Derek proudly announced, “Trying to fix Edwin.”

Edwin let his head sag forwards and sighed; Derek wickedly rejoiced in it, he couldn’t help teasing people. Edwin and Casey were his easiest targets and it never ceased to amuse him. 

“I’m just getting relationship advice from him,” he explained, meeting her eyes.

Casey used the door completely open, shaking her head in disapproval. “Oh, _please_ , don’t listen to your brother,” she advised him, closing the door after her. “Don’t ever listen to your brother about _anything_. But _especially_ about relationships.”

Derek laughed under his breath, attracting her attention. “Because you’re _clearly_ the expert in dating around here.”

“I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty sure I know more than _you_.”

“And _that’s_ why you don’t have a boyfriend?”

She gritted her teeth, outrage clouding her features. “Maybe I don’t _want_ one,” she quipped, focusing on Edwin. “Just do the math, Ed. Out of the two of us, who’s more likely to commit and have a long-lasting relationship?”

Edwin shifted his gaze between them, considering the question with alarming importance. Finally, he nodded and pointed at Casey with his pen. 

“She _does_ have a point.”

“Getting bold, are we?” he jeered.

Casey rolled her eyes and pulled the swivel chair from his desk, positioning it next to the bed. She sat facing Edwin, completely ignoring Derek.

“I don’t remember you asking permission to enter.”

“Oh, shut up, Derek.”

Edwin was visibly dazed by her sharp comeback and Derek’s silence upon hearing it, and looked at his brother with his eyebrows raised. But Derek wasn’t in the mood for bickering and he secretly adored her audacity when it was solely caused by his taunting.

“So, who’s the girl?” Casey pried with a smile. 

Edwin dropped his notepad on his lap and tried to suppress a smile of his own, freighted with shyness. “It’s this girl from my Spanish class. Her name’s Hannah.”

“Hannah Sparks?”

“You know her?”

Casey jerked back, a repentant expression appearing on her face. “Lizzie might’ve mentioned her a couple of times during our calls. But that’s okay,” she added, touching his shoulder with gentleness when he whimpered. “She didn’t tell me anything, really. Just that you were trying to muster up the courage to talk to her.”

“It’s not like she had much more to say about the matter,” he muttered wistfully. 

“See, that’s why you need _me,_ ” Derek meddled, rolling his eyes. “Casey will make you turn into her lame romantic knight in shining armor straight out of her shitty books and next thing you know you’ll be forced to watch chick flicks and go shopping with them. So forget all that shit.”

“ _Excuse me_ ,” Casey fumed, finally staring directly at him.

“I’m talking now,” he dismissed her with a smirk and a wave of his hand, which made her gasp. “You need to be more aggressive, Edwin. If she doesn’t see that other girls are interested, she doesn’t have competition and it gets boring.”

“Okay, you forget _that_ shit right now,” Casey countered, and he chuckled at her choice of words. If she was using that kind of language, he had gotten under her skin. 

“It worked for me.”

“Well, Edwin is not you.”

“Okay,” Edwin intervened, raising his hands as if asking for a truce. It had been so long since he pushed Casey to the limit that it felt odd feeding the fight. “You’re both confusing me. There’s clearly a better way to do this. Casey’s right. I’m not like you, Derek. You’re all about dating a different girl every week, but I... just want Hannah.”

If Edwin only knew he had been dating a different girl every week to forget the one he wanted, he wouldn’t think himself so distinct. He risked a glance at Casey, who was already watching him with narrowed eyes. 

“I need to listen to _her_ for relationship advice,” Edwin continued. “I want to ask Hannah for prom and I think Casey might have some good ideas. But I need _you_ to get there.”

“ _Derek_?” Casey scoffed.

“Yeah, you can advise me all you want, but I suck at flirting. And you can’t help me with _that_.”

Derek snorted. “Finally some wisdom coming out of your mouth.”

“I can flirt,” Casey argued, offended. 

Derek eyed her smugly. “No, you can’t.”

“How would _you_ know that?”

“Because I’ve seen it?” He rolled his eyes, recounting the numerous times he had witnessed her fail miserably at approaching boys. It was almost a gift. “If you get too close to a guy you can’t even form a coherent sentence. Is that what you want Edwin to do?”

“I don’t want to get close to guys, we’re clear on that, right?” Edwin pointed out, being ignored.

“ _You’re_ one to talk,” she spat back, boring her stormy eyes into his. “Your idea of flirting is praising yourself while you do that stupid smile.”

“What stupid smile?” he teased, intentionally plastering a smirk on his lips.

He was keenly aware of its effect on girls, which is why he watched amusedly as Casey's jaw twitched and her pale skin flushed immediately. 

“ _O-kay,_ ” Edwin drawled the word, seemingly bringing Casey back to their initial plan. “Can we go back to prom?”

Casey nodded, swallowing. “Yeah. What have you got?”

“Well, I know Justin and Andy are planning on asking her. I want to ask her before them, obviously, but I’m pretty sure she’s going to reject me.”

“Kid, if you want to get a girl, you need to work on your confidence,” Derek insisted. “I know it’s not easy when you’re... well, _you._ ”

“Der- _ek_ ,” she chided. “Can you do this without insulting your brother?”

He rolled his eyes, leaning into the headboard to watch what was about to happen. He _had_ promised himself not to bully his brother, especially after experiencing what Edwin's daily life felt like when _he_ was alone with Casey. 

“You have to be more positive, okay?” she began, smiling encouragingly at Edwin. “And no self-deprecation. You’re amazing, Ed. I’m sure she’s going to think the same if you just be yourself.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course. You’re smart and funny and any girl would be lucky to have you taking them to prom.”

Derek had an array of comebacks and sarcastic remarks battling to be chosen inside his head, but there was something equally funny and adorable about the way she reassured her step-brother. He knew her well enough to know she wasn’t lying; she genuinely believed Edwin to be fit those categories. And as much as he hated to admit it, that single speech had already brought a smile to Edwin’s face, boosting his confidence. 

“Thanks, Case.”

“It’s true,” she assured him, folding her hands over her lap. “Now what do you know about her?”

“How is that relevant?” Derek asked.

“Because he can ask her in a creative way, so it’s special and memorable,” she explained. 

Edwin scribbled something down on his notepad. “Ask her in a special and creative way,” he murmured, raising his eyes to smile at Casey. “She loves books. She wants to be a writer.”

Of course his brother would also be interested in a nerd. Maybe he wasn’t adopted, after all; it was just a curse cast on the Venturi men. Derek rolled his eyes. 

“Really?” Casey’s eyes sparkled and Derek had the utter conviction that if Hannah were a few years older, she would try to befriend her. “Is she shy?”

“Yeah.”

“So nothing grand. I have an idea.”

“Already?”

“Jot that down,” she said, leaning forward as Edwin resumed his writing. “First you have to keep in mind that you have to do this as fast as you can, so the other boys don’t beat you to it. No procrastination, Edwin. I know you’re going to try to sabotage yourself out of fear, but remember your goal and stick to it.”

“It’s like you’re in my mind.” 

“Okay, second,” she continued, lifting a finger for ponctuation, “you’ll find out what her favorite book is. Or at least what she likes to read.”

Edwin looked up at her for a second. “She loves Harry Potter. I think she mentioned something about The Prisoner of Azkaban?”

Derek let out a groan, shaking his head, despite secretly loving Harry Potter himself. “Help me out here, Edwin.”

“She sounds _wonderful_ , Ed,” Casey retorted, speaking louder than necessary. “Don’t mind your brother, he could never get the attention of someone as smart, so it hurts his ego.”

He chuckled. “Are you calling Emily dumb?”

“Emily and Sally were brainwashed,” she affirmed, glaring at him before going back to Edwin. “Anyway, we can skip to step three, then. You’re going to buy a new copy of this book and then you’ll buy post-its. Colorful ones. We can go shopping later, I know where they have the best stationery.”

“I appreciate the help and I accept it,” Edwin replied, warily writing every step down. 

Casey’s face lit up, a product of her excitement for being helpful and needed. Derek secretly adored it. Not that he would ever admit it out loud.

“Okay, step four. You’re going to write a note for every chapter of the book.”

Edwin’s hand paused its work and he cast her a puzzled look. “A note?”

“Yeah. You can write whatever you want. Maybe something you like about her? Anything, really. Like... that she’s smart or pretty. You know, those kinds of things.”

Edwin dropped his notepad, staring wide-eyed at his step-sister. “Casey, she can’t know I think she’s pretty!” And upon the look of confusion he received from the both of them, his shoulders slumped. “I heard what I said. But I won’t be able to look her in the eye after she reads those things.”

“Edwin,” Derek began, leaning forward for effect, “what do you say to girls? It’s for science.”

“I don’t _say_ anything. That’s the thing. I end up stuttering.”

_I'm familiar with the concept._

“I mean, you know you have to actually _talk_ to someone if you want to _date_ them, right?”

“It’s not easy for me, D. I mean, you always knew you wouldn’t get rejected. It’s easy for you to be confident, but I’m not like that.”

Casey scoffed. “That’s bullshit, Derek got rejected plenty of times.”

Derek raised his eyebrows at her, intrigued by the certainty in her tone. “Where did you get _that_ from?”

She gave him a sardonic smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Doesn’t matter.” Leaning back into her chair, she continued, “The fact is I know he got rejected, even though he loves to brag about getting every girl he wants. So _never_ trust your brother.” She waved at his notepad. “Write that down right now.” 

Edwin promptly gathered his notepad again and motioned to scribble the words down the moment Derek stole his pen agilely.

“Hey!”

“ _That_ ,” he said, pointing at Casey with the pen, “is not true.”

Except it was. He had been rejected countless times, although he couldn't understand why someone would willingly deny themselves the opportunity to go out with him. He had no idea how Casey had that information, but he wouldn’t let her think it was a consistent narrative. 

“Aw, am I hurting your ego?” Casey sneered, flashing him a mocking smile.

He mimicked her smile, crossing his arms over his chest. “No, it doesn’t work like that. I don’t know who told you this shit, but ask them to check their facts. I can get _any_ girl I want.”

Casey made a sarcastic sound. “I know of a _few_ you couldn’t get,” she retorted, seemingly enjoying telling him that. “There are people with _actual_ principles who don’t care how hot or popular you are.” 

Derek bit his lip to keep his automatic comeback from slipping out upon the absorption of her words. His smirk reappeared and, by the way Casey’s face twisted into puzzlement at his reaction, he figured she hadn’t even noticed what she had just said. Even better, her subconsciousness was doing a very good job at ratting her out. 

“You wound me, Case,” he said, putting a hand to his chest. “I’m not that shallow. There’s more to me than being _hot_ and popular.”

The adorable red spots began to emerge on her neck and make their way up her cheeks and Derek made it his mission to openly stare at her with a smug smile until her mortification caused her to look away from him.

“Um...” Edwin uttered, and Derek almost jumped at the sound of his voice. For a moment, he had completely forgotten his little brother was there, observing him practically flirt with his step-sister. _What is wrong with you?_ “Can you do this later?”

_Bless Edwin’s cluelessness._

Casey touched her cheeks with the back of her hands, as if it could help cool them down, while Derek relaxed against the headboard and glanced at her subtly. He still couldn’t help a smile; if Casey found him attractive, she _definitely_ wasn’t immune to him. 

“Yeah,” she said, darting her eyes to Edwin. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. It wouldn’t be you two without a little fight.” Edwin stretched his arm to steal his pen back from his brother’s hand. “Go on.”

She cleared her throat, nodding at him. “As I was saying, you’ll write those down. I’ll check. Then you’re going to stick the post-its to the pages, each for every chapter. The last one has to be ‘will you go to prom with me?’, of course. Maybe we can even think of a cute pun that has to do with the book.”

"Yeah." Edwin smiled, finishing his writing before finding Casey’s eyes. “That’s really good, Case. I think she’ll love it.”

Casey shrugged with one shoulder. “I had a whole list of ideas for promposals during high school. That was one of them. But...” She scrunched up her nose. "It never happened, so... if you want the list, I can give it to you and you can use the ideas for the next years."

“You're a lifesaver," Edwin said, beaming at her. "Do you think we can go shopping for the book and the stationery later?”

Her eyes glistened with excitement. “Absolutely.”

“How fucking adorable,” Derek joked, utterly ignoring Casey’s murdering look in his direction and standing up to walk to his door. “Now get out of here and make me proud and all that shit.”

“But you still haven’t told me how to _actually_ talk to her,” Edwin reminded him. 

“Later, I have to meet Sam and Ralph after lunch and what I have to teach you can’t be taught in fifteen minutes.”

Edwin acquiesced, jumping out of the bed with his notepad in hands, smiling at the both of them before Derek opened the door and let him out. Casey didn’t move, however. 

“You too, in case that wasn’t clear.”

She turned the swivel chair towards him, her hands tucked between her thighs as if to warm them up. “Yeah. I was just thinking...” Her eyes finally bore into his and he involuntarily closed his door again. It was evident she didn’t have plans to leave. “He really looks up to you.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

She rolled her eyes. “This is really important to him, Derek. Don’t treat him like a stupid little boy and _definitely_ don’t ruin his self-confidence. How would you feel if someone you loved kept insulting you all the time?”

His smug expression gave way to a softer look; he was used to throwing insults at his brother, because in his conception, that was what boys did to each other. That was what _brothers_ did to each other. Usually, Edwin didn’t mind the harsh words, especially because he knew they didn’t come from a place of wickedness and mischief. It was just Derek. That’s what he did. 

But now his brother needed an advisor, a role model; he needed his brother and not the reckless teenager who didn’t care about hurting him with his words. 

“I know.”

The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile and she stood up, returning his chair to its initial place. 

“You know,” she began, maintaining the distance as she looked at him again, “you could do something to help him. Like, say...” her hand reached out to grab his leather jacket, that had been haphazardly tossed on his desk sometime during the week. “Let him borrow this?”

He moved away from the door, crossing the distance between them in an instant. With a quick movement, he grabbed the jacket from her hands. “No one touches my jacket, _especially_ Edwin.”

“Come on, Derek. It’s only for a day. It’s symbolic. You’re like a hero to him, can you imagine what lending it to him would mean?”

He stared at her in awe. “Are you out of your mind?”

“It’s just a jacket.”

“ _Just_ a jacket?” 

“And here I thought you were maturing,” she uttered, walking by him to get to the door. 

He turned around to look at her, his jacket still hanging by his hand. “I already gave him advice. That’s like... the epitome of maturing.”

She faced him with her arms crossed, her expression somewhat between annoyance and resignation. “If your advice had been a little more consistent with the whole concept, _maybe_.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re questioning the method that works for me.”

“It works for one night stands, Derek,” she retorted, her tone a little harsher than he would’ve expected. “You don’t want a relationship, you just hook up with a girl and then move on to the next. Edwin has _actual_ feelings.”

It shouldn’t have affected him the way it did. The implication that he didn’t have any feelings whatsoever wasn’t even a foreign concept to him; he constantly announced it to anybody who would listen. But he knew it couldn’t be farther from the truth, and out of everyone who knew him closely, he would expect Casey to be the one deciphering his lies. She always did. Yet she thought he was a player, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she also thought he had scored the girl he had been chatting with the night before just after kissing her. 

He held her gaze, not even bothering to think of something to say. His mind was as blank as a canvas, and he obviously wasn’t about to tell her it wasn’t true. But she didn’t stray away from the tacit challenge, and he didn’t know if it was appropriate to be staring at her for such a long moment in silence. Suddenly all he could think about was taking a step forward to kiss her; the setting was perfectly ladened with the right amount of tension and his hands were tingling to find that spot behind her neck and pull her to him.

His foot moved on its own, taking a half step, and Casey followed the movement with her eyes. He had almost lost that battle to himself when three light knocks on his door helped him out of that reverie. He stopped, while Casey jumped and ran a hand through her hair before opening the door to reveal Lizzie behind it.

“Hey.” Her eyes studied them both with keen interest, probably sensing the obvious tension surrounding the room. “Um... mom _really_ needs to know if you want Chinese.”

Casey smacked her hand against her forehead. “Yeah. I forgot, sorry.”

Lizzie nodded, her gaze never breaking from the palpable awkwardness that was nearly suffocating Derek now. Casey smoothed down her shirt with her hands, even though it was perfectly straight. Lizzie put one hand on the doorknob, a crease appearing between her eyebrows. 

“O-kay. I’ll let her know.”

“I’ll go with you,” Casey announced, turning away without as much as a look in his direction. She passed by Lizzie, who raised her eyebrows at the action, and then dragged her eyes back to Derek. 

“What happened?" she asked.

"What are you talking about?"

Lizzie narrowed her eyes. "Why was Casey in your room?"

He put on his best stoic expression and shrugged. "Because she can't understand the concept of privacy, I guess." He gestured with his hands in the air for Lizzie to walk away. "Apparently it's a McDonald thing. I need to change."

Lizzie hummed thoughtfully. "You guys are acting weird,” she muttered before closing the door. 

Derek let out a relieved sigh, staring at the jacket he had been clutching to the point of crumpling the fabric. _What has she done to me?_

***

Marti leaned over the counter to reach for the last cookie on his plate, giggling when he playfully smacked her arm. He was glad her appetite and liveliness had returned, but George and Nora weren’t exactly happy to know that she had caught a cold and they hadn't been warned.

"See, Nora, she's fine," he said for what felt like the thousandth time. Marti nodded in agreement, although Nora had her back turned to them as she prepared Simon's formula near the sink. "I think we're old enough to know how to babysit."

"Yes, I know, Derek." She sighed, checking the measurements of the blue baby bottle. "But you still left your sister with the _neighbors_ the next day."

He rolled his eyes. " _She_ wanted to go."

"I _did_ ," Marti agreed with her mouth full, which made Derek smile at her and gently pinch her nose. 

"She's a kid, you're supposed to set limits."

He frowned, watching as Nora added a bit of water to Simon's bottle. He _could_ understand her concerns, but he knew her well enough to know that the tension in her back and the slight apprehension in her tone didn't belong to her _or_ fit the matter in question. There was something else bothering her, but he reckoned it could be stress—he knew how tiring it could be to take care of a baby. 

"We left her with you, she was supposed to _stay at home_ with you."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Casey and I went out," he revealed, which made Lizzie, who had been quietly eating an apple on the stool next to Marti, look up at him with curiosity.

"Together?" Nora asked, turning to him with raised eyebrows. Despite her best efforts to appear serene, he could sense her uneasiness from his place at the counter and frowned. 

"Um... yeah."

When Nora's eyes widened a bit and Lizzie lowered her apple on the counter, realization dawned on him. " _Oh_." He shook his head, oddly embarrassed. "What the f— _no_ ," he said, although his attempt to feign offense seemed like heresy. "Sally invited us to this party." _And then I kissed your daughter._

"Sally?" Lizzie asked, surprised. 

"Yeah, she's in town. We ran into her at the carnival."

"She's _engaged_!" Marti announced enthusiastically. 

Derek furrowed his brows, certain that he hadn't mentioned that fact to anyone besides Casey. His eyes traveled to Marti, who was now picking up cookie crumbs on her plate with her fingertips. She had been awake during his conversation with Casey the day before? 

"Engaged?" Nora echoed.

"Yeah. I met her fiancé, he's pretty cool."

Ryan _was_ a very decent guy; he was funny and a big fan of hockey, which allowed for a nice and easy conversation between them during the party. But Derek's intention with the statement was to brush away any pitiful or compassionate looks from Nora, who would probably assume he was devastated by the news of Sally dating someone else—just like Casey had done. _Mental eye-roll._ Only Nora looked even more concerned now, and she quickly turned her back to him again, moving to warm up Simon's milk in the microwave. 

"What time did you come home?" she asked.

"I don't know... one thirty? What's with all those questions?"

If Nora intended to answer him, she was silenced by the sounds of chattering, followed by the backdoor swinging open to reveal Casey and Edwin with several bags hanging on their arms. 

“Hey," Nora said, her tone suddenly calm and soft as usual as she turned to her daughter and her step-son. "How was it?” 

Edwin lifted his bags with a smile; a flowery wrapping paper could be seen poking out of one of them. “Got everything I needed.” Looking back at Casey, he said, “I’ll go get started. Thanks again, Case.”

Casey chuckled, nodding in agreement as she placed her own bags—because of course she wouldn't resist buying a ton of books for herself—on the floor and Edwin made his way to the stairs. She approached Simon, who was comfortably sitting in his stroller, and picked him up. 

“He’s really nervous,” she commented, planting a light kiss on Simon’s temple, who showed her an adorable toothless smile. “But excited about the whole thing. He even waited for me to buy a couple of books for myself and didn't complain once.”

“I’m glad you’re helping him out with this,” Nora said, going back to the microwave when it announced the milk was ready. “He doesn’t feel very comfortable talking about girls with me or George.”

“Don’t worry, Nora,” Derek mocked, “he doesn’t feel comfortable talking _about_ girls or _to_ girls at any circumstance.”

“Be nicer to your brother, Derek,” Nora said, pouring a bit of milk on her wrist to taste it. 

“Didn’t you have plans with Sam and Ralph or something?” Casey asked him, slightly rocking her body from side to side like she did whenever she was carrying Simon. 

“Ralph’s grandma needed him to take her to the grocery store,” he explained, rolling his eyes. Ralph would cancel any plans to help his grandmother with anything. “I’m leaving for Sam’s later at night.”

“Why don’t you take Casey with you, Smerek?” Marti suggested, darting her sparkly eyes between them with a smile and wiggling eyebrows. Her tone denoted how brilliant she thought her plan to be. "Emily is there, right? You can all hang out."

Derek stared at his sister with a meaningful look, but she had her own eyes set on Casey now, who was shaking her head. He just needed one night—one measly night—away from her. 

“We did a lot of that this week,” Casey said, her tone suggesting the same urge he felt to have an uneventful night. Simon’s hands flew up to her necklace and his little fingers fiddled with the locket. “Plus, Derek and his equally disgusting friends are probably going to play video games and eat their weight in everything they have at home.”

Derek snorted. “Don’t sound so conceited, Case. I remember you partaking in the same activities in college not so long ago. Like... _last week_.”

“I never ate that trash you call food.”

“No, you ate that food that _tastes_ like trash.”

She rolled her eyes, struggling to prevent Simon from ripping her necklace apart. The baby moved on to play with the strap of her top, giggling quietly. 

“I think you’re just mad you suck at playing,” Derek teased, smirking at her.

“You _know_ I don’t suck at playing. I’ve scored higher than you like... a bazillion times.”

“The only _five_ times you did it were pure luck. You just press a bunch of buttons and call it playing.”

She narrowed his eyes at him, but averted them to Simon when he insisted on playing with her locket once again. 

“I’m going to destroy you,” she warned him, which sounded extremely funny when couldn't even keep a baby from destroying her necklace.

Derek didn't even care that she had invited herself to go with him, his plans of having a Casey-free night were mainly his rational side trying to convince him he didn't want to be around her. He slid off his stool and approached her silently. “It’s actually cute how you think you can do it,” he muttered in a low voice, so only she could hear it. His back was turned to the rest of the family, so he felt safe enough to tease her with a smirk. 

She stopped fighting against Simon’s persistent little hands to glance up at him, her breath hitching as Derek moved closer and reached out to grab his brother’s fingers, carefully disentangling them from her necklace. His knuckles brushed the skin under her collarbone inadvertently, but he took a few unnecessary seconds to withdraw his hands. 

“You’re on,” he said, getting a glimpse of her startled eyes before sauntering out of the kitchen. 

A few hours later, they were fighting over which station to listen to as he drove to Sam and Emily’s apartment; he had learned over the years that bickering was his way of keeping it safe. It prevented him from saying and doing things he shouldn’t. Like mentioning whatever happened between them the night before or that same morning. 

They hadn’t found a compromise when he parked the car next to the curb and the unsettling silence that sat between them as they walked up the stairs induced him to believe that, perhaps, they _wouldn’t_ find a compromise this time. Maybe kissing her had drawn the line; maybe he had permanently ruined the little he had been able to build regarding their relationship.

“Welcome to our humble residence!” Sam greeted them as he opened the door to his apartment.

The place was small, but cozy; the walls had been painted a dark shade of blue and decorated with a few posters—some of them, Derek recognized as being Sam’s. There wasn’t any extra furniture besides the essential, but the tidiness of the place was commendable. 

The floor in front of the TV had been covered with three blankets and a few pillows; as they approached the old beige couch, Derek saw the bowls of chips and popcorn on the tiny coffee table next to it. 

Emily walked into the room with a pack of beer in her hands. 

“Oh, hey, you guys.” She put the bottles on the coffee table and hugged them both as Sam closed the door. “Make yourselves at home.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Derek plopped down onto the couch, grabbing the bowl of chips. 

The rest followed his lead, although choosing the floor instead. Casey picked up a pillow and put it on her lap, while Emily stretched her legs and reached out to grab a handful of chips out of Derek’s bowl. Sam opened a beer and began to sip on it as he accommodated himself next to Emily. 

“Where’s Ralph?” Casey asked.

“Probably on his way,” Sam said, passing his bottle to Emily, who promptly accepted it. “So, why did you decide to come? Not that your presence isn’t appreciated, I’m just trying to understand,” he added.

“She thinks she can beat me,” Derek answered for her, sliding off his seat to the place next to Casey on the floor. 

Casey made a derisive sound, looking at Sam. “Derek would never admit it, but he’s lost to me many, _many_ times.”

“ _Five_ times. And like I told you before, _luck_ ,” he quipped, holding a chip next to her mouth for the sole purpose of irritating her. 

She batted at his arm and he chuckled, popping the chip into his mouth to chew it with his mouth open. Casey let out a disgusted "Ugh" and turned to Emily. Someone knocked at the door and Sam stood up to answer it, playfully tapping Derek’s head as he walked by the couch.

“Hey, dude!” Ralph’s cheery voice invaded the room, immediately charging the atmosphere with the joy that emanated from him. “Sorry I’m late, I got it all confused. I thought we had set this whole thing at Derek’s, so I went to his place and then I had to ask Nora for directions to your apartment, cause I couldn’t remember them.”

“You could’ve just... _called_ ,” Sam said, and Ralph widened his eyes as if the idea had never occurred to him. Because it naturally hadn’t. Derek rolled his eyes. 

Ralph chuckled. “That would’ve been so much easier.”

Sam patted his back and beckoned him in, returning to his place next to Emily as Ralph greeted everyone with a wave of his hand and threw himself on the couch, crossing his ankles. 

“Alright,” Sam began, “I made a system before you all arrived, so the person who completes the phase with the most points wins and changes partners. _No killing_ ,” he emphasized, looking meaningfully at Derek, who grinned, “cheating or stealing points from each other, okay?”

Upon everyone’s agreement, Emily and Ralph started playing the first round. The premise of the game wasn’t complex: there were two players working together to complete missions while avoiding being killed by the enemies. There were points earned for good strategies, moves and killing the bad guys. 

“Do you want some?” Sam asked. 

Derek turned his head to see him offering Casey his beer, but she shook her head in denial; she was eating popcorn from the bowl she had stolen for herself. 

“I’m the designated driver,” she said, although they hadn’t discussed the issue. 

"I'm not drinking today," Derek said, stretching his arm over the seat of the couch, just centimeters from her shoulders. Casey turned her head to look at him and only then he noticed how close they were. "Go ahead and live a little, kid."

As he anticipated, she rolled her eyes. "You're just trying to get me drunk so I don't beat you."

" _Please_ , I'd beat you in my sleep."

Casey scoffed, but accepted the beer, taking a sip while Sam grabbed another one for himself. Derek directed his attention to the TV, where Ralph had an almost unfair advantage of points over Emily, but his peripheral vision was keenly aware of Casey’s proximity for him to pay attention to anything else. 

He liked it when she drank beer; the way her face turned into a grimace when she tasted the bitterness of the liquid, yet she didn’t stop; the way she seemed to relax once she had a few sips, shoulders falling and easy smiles creeping upon her lips. She had even leaned into his side, although very subtly, and he casually moved his arm until his skin touched her neck. She cringed for a split second, but didn't move. 

He barely noticed the time passing until Ralph let out a raucous laugh that was instantly mirrored by Emily; her character had somehow blown itself up while jumping from a building. 

“That was a good game,” Sam said as Emily sat down by his side. 

"No, it wasn't. I suck."

"It's a good thing you're self-aware," Derek jeered. "Make way for the master," he said as he stood up to sit down next to Ralph. 

His friend was an exceptional player, but Derek had played that game with him enough times to know his tricks. Dozens of times, Derek intentionally blocked his way or shot their enemies before he had a chance to, receiving boos and critics from his friends. But Ralph kept his buoyant energy, even cheering for him. Derek had never known someone as gentle and kind as Ralph. 

And it was nice. Playing video games with his friends was always great, but that evening, with the addition of the girls combined with laughing, alcohol and crappy food was fantastic. Derek thought it was the nostalgia; it had been months since he gathered his friends and rejoiced in idleness. It made him truly feel like he was back home, in high school. 

Ralph put up a good fight, but eventually lost the game by seventy points. 

“And another one bites the dust,” Derek jested, playfully punching Ralph’s shoulder twice and turning his head to meet Casey’s eyes with a feline smile. “Ready to die?”

“I don’t know, are you?”

Emily and Sam let out a challenging _‘ooh’_ as Ralph traded places with Casey. Derek swiftly grabbed Ralph’s controller and held it in the air when Casey crossed her legs. When she motioned to take it, he moved it away from her, smirking when she sighed in impatience. It was only a matter of time before she said—

“Der- _ek_.”

His smirk grew bigger, satisfied with himself. He just needed to push her a little, both to distract her from the game and make her flush—he couldn’t help it. 

“You might want to take off your jacket,” he said quietly, letting his eyes drop to her clothes purposefully slowly, “it might get intense. You don’t want to feel too _hot_.”

Casey’s face turned instantly red. “I’m good, thanks,” she replied, annoyed. 

“You sure? If it’s too hard for you to concentrate with me here, I can move—”

“Der- _ek_ , give me that stupid thing and shut the hell up,” she warned him, reaching out for the controller. 

Derek chuckled, lowering his hand so she could pull the controller with unnecessary force. She huffed and glowered at him before he restarted the game with a promise to humiliate her with his skills.

But the truth was that she was surprisingly good. He had somehow coaxed her into playing with him during one of their study sessions back at Queen’s and she had successfully gathered a decent amount of points on her first try. After that, he showed her different games and he was amused to find out that, once properly entertained, Casey could lose track of time and completely forget about papers and exams. 

He knew she had potential to compete against him, and wouldn’t doubt her capacity, though he would never admit defeat. The fact was that after a few minutes, he began to realize that she wasn’t playing the way she usually did. 

“Go, Casey!” Emily chirped excitedly, probably a result of the weed he could smell from where he was sitting. 

His friends had been shamelessly rooting for her, with the exception of Ralph, who measured his words of encouragement equally between the two. 

“Check the ammo, Case,” Sam advised, as he had been also suspiciously doing for the past few minutes. 

Casey furiously pressed a combination of buttons beside him, her eyes never leaving the screen. At this point, Derek was certain that she had asked Sam for tips beforehand. 

“Derek, are you tired yet?" she teased.

"Nope, I'm just busy kicking your butt."

"Casey's body count is higher than yours, though," Ralph pointed out. 

"But she's being a little sloppy, they're almost tied," Sam retorted. 

"Der- _ek_!" Casey yelled exactly as he predicted when he purposefully threw a grenade towards her character. He laughed as she was thrown against a wall made of stones, losing a great percentage of life. "That was amazing, Case. I didn’t even know we could fly in this game!" 

She pushed his shoulder, her eyes still glued to the screen as her character stood up. “Sam said no killing each other.”

“Sam _also_ said no cheating and he went behind my back giving you tips,” he countered. “And you look pretty alive to me.”

“I simply gave her advice, man,” Sam said, his speech slightly slower and calmer than usual.

“Stoned son-of-a-bitch,” Derek said in a playful tone, which apparently sounded like the funniest thing Sam had ever heard as he burst out laughing. 

The setting had changed in the game; suddenly they were surrounded by a group of men in uniforms in a dim-lit warehouse. Casey lurched forward, blocking his way to annihilate at least half of them with a machine gun. He had to dodge when she slowly turned her character to shoot the remaining men to avoid getting shot. 

“You want to play like Sam? I’ll play as if you were Sam,” Derek warned her, selecting the biggest gun his character possessed and targeting her head. 

“Der- _ek_!” 

He was about to press the button when her hand found his thigh inadvertently, squeezing it. He knew it was a thoughtless action, only a reflex incited by his threat, but it caught him off guard. His eyes found her profile before he could take control of his brain; his body responding to that innocent touch that didn’t mean a single thing, but was awakening every emotion he had been trying to suppress. 

Derek didn’t know how that was possible. Whenever a girl touched him, he never thought about it. It was simply an action that often led to him satisfying his own needs; no emotions, definitely no staring at them or feeling his entire body going numb. That was for little girls who had crushes. Not for Derek Venturi. 

But Casey was there, having fun in _his_ world, touching him as if she was comfortable by his side, no ulterior motives. And he was there, mind clouded, watching it all unfold with a terrifying feeling in his gut. 

She was turning her head to him the moment a loud lighting stroke, engulfing the apartment in sheer darkness. It was all in one second; first, a flash, then Casey’s hand was gone and he went blind. 

Derek heard a commotion outside as the neighbors complained, save for a few voices that yelled joyfully in unison, “Blackout!”

“You gotta be kidding me,” Emily whined. “Is everyone okay? Case?”

He couldn’t even see silhouettes through the uttermost blackness, since the single lightning had turned off the street lights as well. But knowing Casey was terribly afraid of storms, he was positive she was already hugging her legs and shoving her face into her knees like a scared child. 

“Yeah,” she replied in a small voice.

"Is the power out?" Ralph asked, confused.

“Yup.” Derek laid down and groped until he found two pillows to place them under his head on the floor. "Very convenient," he mumbled, thinking that it was probably for the best, otherwise he would have continued to stare at Casey like an idiot. There was the universe sending him hidden messages again. 

He didn't know what was happening to him. He had managed a couple of years with the notion that he had developed feelings—stupid, unnerving, completely useless feelings—for her without feeling so helpless. He had been able to hide it, even deny it a couple of times. So what was that twinge in his stomach? That rush of thrill and fear that ran through him and smothered his heart? 

Suddenly the sky seemed to open up and the rain started to pour like an ocean dropping down and tapping the glass of the windows tempestuously. 

“Do we have any candles?” Emily asked in a loud voice, to be heard over the noise of the increasingly heavy rain. 

“No,” Sam said. “I didn’t think to pack _candles_ when we moved in.”

“Well, that’s just great.”

“Maybe we can borrow some from Mrs. Garrett?”

“She hates us, Samuel,” Emily replied, annoyed. 

“The crackheads from 45 don’t even have furniture, the creepy flutist isn’t home and we don’t know the other people who live here.”

“Ralph,” Emily called, to which the boy responded with a muffled sound that indicated he was stuffing his mouth with food. “Would you be a doll and ask Mrs. Garrett for some candles? She doesn’t know you, and old people seem to like you.”

“They _do_ like me!” Ralph agreed in a gleeful tone, just when another flash illuminated the room before the loud rumble of thunder made Casey yelp quietly by Derek’s side. In her defense, he also jumped at the abrupt sound. 

“Come on,” Sam said, and Derek assumed his friend had stood up to guide Ralph outside the apartment. 

The door was opened and the emergency lights in the hall immediately cast a beam of light that reached his friends. Sam pointed Ralph towards Mrs. Garrett's door and waited patiently as he made his way to his destination. 

“Are we sure Ralph’s going to know his way back to the apartment?” Casey asked, her voice slightly shaky. 

“I’m keeping an eye,” Sam assured her from the door. 

Derek flinched when he felt something touch his hand, but relaxed as he realized it was Casey’s hand trying to find a position on the floor. 

“Sorry,” she apologized, quickly moving it away.

He remained in silence, although his mind worked tirelessly fabricating plentiful scenarios that shouldn’t even be cogitated. All of them revolving around him kissing her senseless when no one else could see them. That was dangerous. If he allowed himself to dive into fantasies, his body might react. He laughed quietly as he imagined what Casey would do if it happened—she would probably 'Der- _ek'_ him with a shriek and slap him. 

Another thunder resonated, invading the space of that tiny room; he had the impression that the windows were shaking with the powerful sound. 

“Oh, shit,” Sam chuckled, “Ralph just befriended Mrs. Garrett. He’s inside the apartment.”

“ _What_?” Emily huffed. “This is on us, really. It’s _Ralph._ ”

“Derek is the worst with people and Casey’s afraid of storms, so... which one of us does she hate the least?” he wondered aloud. 

“Me,” Emily decided, resigned. Derek heard her shift on the couch, probably getting up to fix the problem. “Definitely me. I’m going.”

“I’ll go with you just in case. I’ll stay back, so she doesn’t see me.”

As they closed the door, leaving Derek and Casey behind, the storm worsened. The wind had changed direction, sending violent drops of water to patter aggressively against the windows. Casey was breathing heavily beside him now. She obviously wouldn’t voluntarily ask for help and he had his own opinions about offering it. He wasn’t nice. He wasn’t helpful. But sometimes, when she was around, he wanted to be. 

With a sigh, he sat up on the floor and reorganized his pillows, arranging them side by side. Warily, he groped in the dark until he found her arm, which made her flinch. 

“It’s me.”

She relaxed immediately, letting out a shaky breath. “I hate storms. I freaking hate them.”

Derek smiled to himself. “I know.” He wrapped his fingers around her arm and gently pulled her down. “Come on.”

Casey didn’t protest, and he blamed the lack of resistance on her fear. She was too stunned to fully acknowledge what was happening, so she laid down on the floor quietly; he did the same, letting go of her arm to roll onto his back. He could feel her breath brushing the skin of his neck; the proximity was nearly agonizing, enhancing the tension he felt, but that was probably only in his mind. 

“What’s with you and storms?” he asked, assuming that talking would help her concentrate on the conversation and forget the storm outside. 

“I’m not falling for it.”

“I know way worse things about you, Casey.”

She kicked his shin playfully and he kicked her back. After a deep breath, she shifted next to him, and when he couldn’t feel her breath on his skin again, he presumed she had turned onto her back as well. 

“I don’t know. Some people are born with weird fears,” she said, quietly. But then, raising her voice, she taunted, “You’re afraid of _geese_.”

“I am _not_ afraid of geese!” 

He _was_. _Terribly._ When he was seven, a car almost ran over him when he invaded the street while trying to run from a goose near the lake. George pulled him by the hem of his shirt and he fell on his back. He still had a scar in the shape of a crooked square on his elbow. 

Casey chuckled and the hypnotizing effect she had on him made his own lips twitch into a smile. 

“Aren’t they taking too long?” she mused. 

“What, are you afraid of the dark too?” he taunted, looking to the side, even though he couldn’t see her. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. You _are_.”

A resonant thunder prevented her from answering the question, instead sharpening her reflexes as she found his wrist and held it tight; her nails nearly digging into his skin. He gritted his teeth with the pain, but didn’t say a word. 

“Shit. I'm so sorry.”

She loosened up her grip, but he hastened to stop her, “It’s fine. You can hold it.” 

Derek could feel her hesitance; her fingers merely brushing his skin as she decided whether she should accept it or not. The fact that she was seeking comfort in him shouldn’t be as exciting, but it wasn’t the first time she had done it and he couldn’t help but feel elated to be needed. _I need this Derek_ , she told him once on a stranger's balcony under a sky as black as that room. It startled him how much he _wanted_ to be this Derek.

"I'm well known for my selflessness," he added, in an attempt to wane the seriousness of that moment. It felt too intimate. "It's in my top three qualities. Right after hotness and popularity."

Casey let out a sound between a snort and a chuckle. "I hate you," she said affectionately. 

Slowly, her fingers curved around his wrist again and he closed his eyes to relish the warm feeling that trailed across his body, his heart brimming with something he couldn’t name. He waited in silence, accepting every twinge of pain that she inflicted on him every time another lightning struck, her grip tightening until it was over and then loosening again in a never-ending cycle. 

He almost jumped when he heard Emily’s voice outside the apartment, seconds before the door was opened. 

“...really help me out here. If I told you to go and get candles, _why_ did you get inside?”

Ralph sighed. “She said she had candy.”

“ _How_ did you not get taken by a stranger in a van when you were a kid?”

Sam laughed. “That’s alright, Em. We’ll manage in the dark. We can just... talk, I guess.”

“She didn’t have any candles?” Derek pried, somewhat relieved that Casey’s fingers were still pressed against his skin despite their friends being back. 

It’s not like they were doing something wrong, anyway. Or like he was taking advantage of her fear.

“No,” Emily said. “You guys want to stay the night?”

“Yeah, I don’t think we can drive in this storm.”

With no other alternative, Sam and Emily sat on the couch while Ralph found a place next to Derek. They quickly engaged in conversation, their voices battling against the noise of the storm outside. Ralph’s antics yielded laughter, recreating the upbeat energy they had built together prior to the blackout, but Derek was too aware of Casey’s touch to participate. 

Casey also didn’t say a word, and the only thing that made him certain that she hadn’t fallen asleep was the constant movement of her fingers around his wrist; it was her anxiety. The thunder had finally ebbed away and the rain had turned into a light drizzle, but he knew she was waiting for it to come back. 

It was so soothing he felt sleepy and his silence was soon noticed by Sam, who presumed he had, in fact, fallen asleep. He didn’t deny it and waited patiently as his friends decided to end the night and go to their rooms, inviting Ralph to sleep on the floor of Sam’s bedroom. 

As he heard the doors closing down the hall, he turned his head to the side; Casey hadn’t moved yet, but he knew she was still awake. 

“Derek?” she whispered a few minutes later.

“Hmm?”

Not being able to see her face was slightly scary; it was a cruel reminder that she was able to mess with his head with the mere sound of her voice. She finally released her grip on his wrist and moved, laying on her side again; his skin felt oddly colder without her touch. 

“I was talking to Lizzie earlier today,” she began. By the tone of her voice, she was resisting the drowsiness. “She asked me about college. And us.” 

“Us?”

“Yeah. How... we’ve gotten... closer.”

Derek could almost see her blushing now. He moved until he was laying on his side, aware that this was his cue to deny any closeness between them. It was their dynamic. But it would be blasphemy at this point. 

“And, uh... she was surprised when I told her our friends don’t know we’re step-siblings. _Why_ don’t they?” 

He steered back, staring at the nothingness with a lost look. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t _that_. Casey’s tone suggested that the topic had never crossed her mind before, but was now bothering her. It hadn’t crossed his mind either and now he couldn’t stop wondering _why_. 

The first person they met in college was Tyler, his roommate. Casey appeared at the door of their dorm a few hours after arriving, because one of his bags had been wrongly placed with hers. She saw his roommate and, of course, she had to greet him. Tyler immediately assumed they were friends and from that moment on, that was what Derek made everyone think every time he introduced her to someone he knew. To be fair, he never _mentioned_ the word ‘ _friend_ ’, but he never corrected the people who did either.

Now that he thought about it, he reckoned it was his subconsciousness; in college, he could be someone else. It was almost like starting new: no ties, no parents around. No one knew them there. He never wanted to be her step-brother, so he fixed it. But it was like trying to cover a hole in a den with his hands; it was a quick solution to an impending catastrophe. 

“I told you I can’t be associated with you. It's bad enough that they think we're friends.”

“You told me you like hanging out with me,” she reminded him, a faint touch of playfulness in her tone.

“I said it wasn’t so bad. Don’t twist my words.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “We’re different people in college.”

“Different as in not related?”

“We’re _not_ related,” he affirmed firmly. “But our parents treat us that way, so college is... freedom, I guess.”

“Freedom,” she repeated, giggling. The alcohol combined with the drowsiness had an interesting effect on her. A smile crept upon his lips. "Our parents just want us to get along, Derek.”

“I’ll never see you as a sister, Casey. Get over it.”

“Good. I’ll never see you as a brother either,” she replied. 

He tried not to think about the meaning behind _'good_ '. The words that followed it brought him dissolute relief; perhaps it was his way of coping with his guilt. He didn’t want her to think they had any connection that resembled a family, because he shouldn’t feel the way he felt about her if that was the case. 

“It’d make it a lot weirder if we did, given recent events,” she whispered.

Derek chuckled under his breath, his eyes shifting in the dark, looking for a face he wouldn’t find. “Are you actually making _jokes_ about the kiss now?”

“I might be a little drunk,” she confessed. He could hear the smile in her voice.

“Ah, I like drunk Casey.”

“You like any version of me that doesn’t _look_ like me.”

 _If only_.

Casey sighed again, the soft ruffling of fabric against fabric indicating she was scooting closer to him; her warm breath reached his cheek. If he could see her face, he fathomed it would be a little easier. Now, he had no idea what was happening; there was no way to measure her proximity or to control his urge to find that out with a subtle movement of his head. A little forward, just to test his theory. If their mouths touched, he could blame it on the darkness.

“Thank you for letting me... hurt you,” she said groggily. "I know you were trying to be funny," she added, pausing for a moment before continuing, "but that top three list isn't _that_ wrong."

Derek blinked in the dark, momentarily stunned. He would never be able to know how or why, but that was the exact moment. He couldn’t see Casey’s face now, but his eyes were fixed on where she was supposed to be. And, ironically, he _saw._ In the dark, he looked at her invisible silhouette with a fear unbeknownst to his hazel eyes, his chest filling up with a cluster of emotions he couldn’t even name and the painful beating of his heart. He listened to it for a while, letting it become a mantra of sorts.

He had been so focused on the road ahead, on the security he would find somewhere along the way when his feelings faded away and this madness was but a memory, that he forgot to take notice of the present. He forgot to look over his shoulders, where Casey had been carefully approaching him, silently catching up. 

She had been as subtle and unwitting as a storm; he hadn’t paid attention, because there was no warning. Like spring rain, she loomed up in the middle of a seemingly calm day and transformed it. Just a sprinkle of laughter and kindness and wrist-holding in the middle of a storm with occasional slightly annoyed ‘ _Der-ek_ ’s and he was changed. The day was as tranquil as before, the skies were clear; only _he_ wasn’t the same anymore.

He swallowed his own fear down with the weight of his realization.

_I’m in love with Casey._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, thank you so much for your support! The comments I've been receiving are the sweetest, they make me really, really happy ❤️  
> I know we're not back in college yet, but there are a few important things to happen before we get there. But we ARE getting there, I promise hahah  
> Also, since I have another chapter ready, it's probable I'll be uploading tomorrow.  
> Have a lovely day ❤️


	7. Of Rumors and Sinners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorites, I hope you guys enjoy it ❤️

_“There's no air around me when we get this close_

_But there's nowhere I want to go_

_You keep it a secret if you feel the same_

_And leave me dying to know”_

_(Be There - Seafret)_

Casey 

First, it was the brightness. Casey squeezed her eyes tighter to avoid the rays of sunshine penetrating the windows of the apartment in drastic contrast to the turbulent storm that haunted her the night before. 

Then, it was the sounds. There were birds chirping outside and the soft humming of a coffee machine. Light conversation could be heard somewhere near; Casey identified the voices as being Sam’s and Emily’s. 

“It'd be so much easier,” Sam was saying, followed by Emily’s delightful laugh. "It _would_!" 

“Just have some patience, Samuel. _Patience._ ”

She blocked the sounds as she opened her eyes to see Derek laying on his stomach by her side, legs askew on top of the blanket that covered the floor, lips slightly parted. One of his hands was comfortably placed on the edge of her pillow, his face extremely close to hers. It was enough to set her heart racing inside her chest. 

Quietly tracing every feature of his face with her eyes, she wondered if she was unconsciously setting herself up to those kinds of situations. The last time she woke up by his side, she had fallen asleep on the couch instead of hiding safely in her room. Last night she chose to pretend she was asleep when her friends went to their bedrooms, just so that she wouldn’t have to let go of Derek. And then she made the mistake of closing her eyes again. 

_Pathetic_.

In her defense, she couldn’t resist her own instincts when Derek renounced his witty remarks and haughty countenance to give way to that hidden side of him. The one she was lucky enough to get a glimpse of when he allowed himself to feel. The one that made him care enough to let her dig her nails into his skin and not say a single word. Even his tone changed; the humor and the sarcasm being replaced by a softness she barely recognized.

And God, she felt like she could give everything she owned to always have that. Even just a portion. 

“Morning, Case.”

Casey sat up so quickly that her blood pressure dropped, making her momentarily dizzy. She put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes, remembering to send oxygen into her lungs. 

“Hey, Ralph,” she said, dropping her hand to look up at the boy, who stared at her with a frown. "What time is it?"

"Almost eleven."

She groaned. The last time she slept in, Derek changed the time on her phone so she would arrive late for her summer job. She swept the floor with her eyes in search of her phone, certain that she had placed it somewhere near her after entering the apartment. She reckoned Nora might be worried. Casey was no longer used to letting her know about her whereabouts since after leaving for college, so the thought of calling her to say that she wasn't going back home hadn't even crossed her mind the night before. 

“Do you want some breakfast?” Ralph asked. "Sam made us eggs. He forgot to put the salt, but if you eat it fast enough, it's edible."

She shook her head, standing up to search through the cushions of the couch. “No, thanks. Have you seen my phone?”

“Isn’t that it?” Ralph pointed at the phone forgotten next to the coffee table. Part of Derek's blanket had covered half of the object. 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” she said, letting out a sigh of relief as she reached for it. As she predicted, there were several missed calls from her mother and two messages from Lizzie. 

“What is it?” Ralph asked, sensing her concern. 

“My mom was calling me,” she said, scrolling through her contacts to call her back. “But it was on vibrate.”

“What is this annoying noise?” Derek grumbled, rolling onto his back and covering his eyes with his forearm. “Can you all just shut the fuck up?”

Ralph crouched down and grabbed one of the pillows on the floor to hit Derek on the stomach. Derek let out a low _‘oof_ ’ and uncovered his eyes to punch Ralph’s shoulder, who laughed. 

“She isn’t answering,” Casey muttered, moving on to check Lizzie’s messages from the previous night.

**_Lizzie:_ ** _Hey, mom is freaking out here. Are u guys ok?_

**_Lizzie:_ ** _Also, idk what happened but she’s been acting really weird ever since Ralph left. Any clue?_

“She was probably worried,” Ralph mentioned, standing up. 

Casey whirled around to stare at him, a crazy idea starting to form in her mind, making her skin feel suddenly cold. “Ralph?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you talk to my mom yesterday?”

He knitted his brows together, shrugging. “Well, yeah. I told you, I thought we were supposed to meet at your place.”

“I know, Ralph. I mean did you _say_ something to my mom?”

Ralph hummed, squinting his eyes at the ceiling with a pensive look on his face. “I told her I liked what she did with the kitchen wall. The wallpaper is really nice.” He tapped his lips with his index finger, slowly. 

Casey was gradually losing her patience. Ralph’s naiveté was adorable when she wasn’t conjuring ideas that could put her in trouble. 

“I said that Marti had grown quite a bit, she’s this tall,” he announced proudly, motioning to his torso. “Oh, and I also told her I was happy that you guys were dating. By the way, you should’ve told me she didn’t know about it. I felt like an idiot spilling it out before you did.” He chuckled, shaking his head. 

Casey’s mind went blank. She was positive her circulation had been interrupted, for her limbs were starting to feel as gelid as snow. There was only the sound of her heart pounding and Ralph’s laughter progressively petering out. 

“ _What_?” The question was louder in her mind, but it came out as a whisper.

With a side glance, she noticed Derek was getting up to his feet, his gaze never breaking from Ralph’s face, as if he could kill him with the power of his mind.

“Well, you know,” Ralph said, gesturing, “I was making small talk.”

“What the _fuck is your problem_ , Ralph?” Derek snapped.

Ralph’s expression instantly morphed into bemusement as he shifted his eyes from Casey to Derek. Before he could answer the rhetorical question, Emily and Sam were already entering the living room.

“What’s going on?” Emily asked, a cup of coffee between her hands. 

A creased appeared on Ralph’s forehead; he cast an apologetic look at Derek as he replied, “I thought Nora knew. I thought _everyone_ knew. I saw Derek and Casey together at the party and I figured it was a good conversation topic.”

Casey rubbed her palms across her face. “ _Why?_ ”

“Oh, shit, you told Nora about them?” Sam whistled, crossing his arms.

Casey turned to Derek, who was still glowering at Ralph. “ _You didn’t tell him?_ ”

He met her eyes, a jumble of emotions running across his face before he looked at Sam, who raised his hands to his chest and took a step back, literally stepping out of that conversation. 

“I didn’t think he even _knew_! _”_

“Well, I didn’t either.”

“Am I missing something here?” Ralph meddled innocently, receiving another murderous look from Derek.

“Should I take Ralph outside before someone snaps his neck?” Emily intervened.

“Wait, what?” Ralph’s hand rose to his neck, softly massaging it. If the situation were different, Casey would have found it comical. 

Emily sighed, rolling her eyes. “That wasn’t literal, just... they’re not dating,” she revealed, taking a sip of her coffee. 

Casey dropped her gaze to the floor, following the lines of the colorful drawings on the blanket. Her face was flushed, probably as red as the crimson fabric. She was finally comprehending the fact that her mother thought she was dating her step-brother. Nora went to bed the night before thinking Derek was her boyfriend. Did she tell the kids? No, Lizzie said she didn’t know what was happening. Did she tell George? Was she mad? 

Suddenly she felt dizzy again, but it had nothing to do with her blood pressure. She knew the signs of an anxiety attack very well. Emily probably noticed it too, because she sidled up to her and offered her a sip from her coffee. 

“But I saw them kissing at the party,” Ralph said. “I ran into Truman later and he told me—”

“ _Oh, fucking hell_ ,” Derek hissed, running both his hands through his tousled hair. 

“It’s okay,” Emily said placatingly, touching Casey’s shoulder. Casey took a bigger sip of the coffee in her hands, the hot liquid warming up her body. “You guys just have to explain everything and it’ll all be fine. Right? There’s no need to fight.”

Casey sighed, handing Emily her cup. 

Ralph nodded. “I—I’m really sorry if I did something wrong.”

“ _If?_ ” Derek echoed, annoyed. “ _Why_ would you tell Nora about this?”

“Because... I don’t know, I was happy for you guys.”

The pureness in Ralph’s statement prevented Casey from even getting slightly mad at him. It wasn’t his fault. It was solely _Derek’s_ fault—and hers too, for agreeing to it. Out of stupidity. Out of a foolish urge to pretend it was her only option and blame Derek for it, when she knew she _wanted_ it. She had plenty of options and she chose the only one she wasn’t supposed to. 

“Casey, you know I wouldn’t do that on purpose, right?” Ralph asked, looking at her with clemency in his eyes. 

“Of course I do, Ralph. You didn’t know.” She swallowed, shaking her head. “It just caught us off guard.”

Derek ran his palms across his face, letting out a heavy stream of air. He stared at Ralph, the anger dissolving sequentially, and nodded quietly. Silence crept in, weaving through them with a dose of awkwardness and tension on its tail. 

“Well, we..." Casey began, intending to end that situation as soon as possible, “We’d better go, then. She must be freaking out.”

Derek nodded again, apparently unable to say a word. She honestly didn’t understand, because she clearly remembered him trying to calm her down when she foresaw that exact situation saying that it wasn’t a big deal. 

“Don’t you want to eat something first?” Emily offered. 

“No,” Casey said, trying a weak smile, “I think we should go as soon as possible. Thanks, Em.” She looked at Derek, who was already watching her. “I’ll meet you downstairs, I’ll just use the bathroom real quick.”

“Okay.” 

She acquiesced and turned to hide in the safety of the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Grabbing the edges of the porcelain sink, she raised her head to see her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were wilder than normal, tiny black spots of mascara had clung to the skin below them; her cheeks were slightly flushed and her hair was a perfect mess. 

Casey turned on the water and washed her face. Then, she borrowed the toothpaste lying on the surface next to the sink and brushed her teeth with her finger. That would do. Fixing her hair as best as she could, she stared at her own image again and took a deep breath. 

She needed a minute to prepare for what was awaiting her at home. She knew it was as easy as Emily had made it seem: tell Nora the truth, end the confusion. But what scared her the most wasn’t facing her mother, if not seeing her reaction to what she believed to be true. Casey wasn’t ready to watch her face twist in disgust; she didn’t want to hear her reproach them and tell them how wrong it was. 

_It’s not true._

But what if it were?

Swallowing her own questions, she went back to the living room and swiftly hugged her friends goodbye, meeting Derek downstairs. He didn’t say a single word as he drove them back to their place, only taking a couple of tic-tacs five minutes before they arrived. At least her uneasiness was able to drown out any possibility of tension between them; she had to open her window to force the air into her lungs.

“Stop overthinking,” Derek finally spoke up after parking the car in the garage. His voice was calm and low, which did bring her a little comfort. “It’s nothing.”

“Why did you lose it when Ralph told us, then?” 

Derek rolled his eyes, resting his head on the back of his seat. “Because he could’ve saved us the trouble. Believe it or not, I’m not looking forward to talking to your mom about it,” he added sarcastically. 

“I told you, Derek. I _literally_ told you this would happen,” she accused, her tone ladened with a mix of anger and resentment she didn’t even know she felt.

He flickered his eyes to her, clenching his jaw. “I’m sorry, Casey. I’m sorry I fucking kissed you. If I could take it back, I would. Is that what you want me to say? Is that going to change anything?”

She visibly jerked back, unable to refrain her own reaction, as if he had just slapped her. In a way, it felt like he did. And she wondered how easily he could make her emotions regarding him oscillate so drastically. Irritation overwhelmed her body, mixed with cruel and raw pain. But she didn’t have the right to direct those feelings at him when she knew it never meant anything to him. 

Derek drew his brows together. “What?”

Casey shook her head, forcing herself to drop her gaze to her own hands for safety. “My mom doesn’t know about Truman,” she said, “so don’t bring it up.”

Derek moved to face her, placing his hand on the edge of his seat. “You didn’t tell her?”

She shook her head. “No, I was... I didn’t want her to know, I...” she sputtered, shrugging. “She thinks we’re still friends. She doesn’t necessarily like him, but she has no idea that he... you know. And I want to keep it that way, because she warned me about him and I didn’t listen, so it’s—”

He put one hand on her knee, startling her, and only then did she realize she had started to anxiously shake her leg as her rant progressed. Casey looked up from his hand to his face, heart pounding abruptly in her chest. 

“I do the talking and you just agree with everything. Sounds good?”

Casey nodded quietly, biting the inside of her bottom lip nervously. For a split second, Derek’s eyes dropped to her mouth; his hand, still casually placed on her knee, seemed to be burning her skin now. When he looked up at her again, she frowned at what she found in his eyes. They seemed darker, but marred with something remarkably close to forlornness. His forehead puckered and when she opened her mouth to ask him if he was okay, he blinked and pulled his hand away to open his door and get out of the car. 

She let out the breath she didn’t even know she had been holding and followed his steps, mind still clouded from whatever happened just seconds before. They stepped in through the unlocked backdoor and Casey’s heart sped up one more time at the sight of her mother. She had her back turned to them, sorting through paper bags on the counter while George stored a few vegetables in the fridge. They had probably just arrived from the grocery store. 

Nora heard them almost immediately, craning her neck to catch their eyes. Casey couldn’t read her expression; she wasn’t smiling, but she didn’t seem mad either. There was, however, a glimmer of affliction in her eyes as she studied their faces, probably trying to decide if their countenance was culpable. 

“Oh, good morning you two!” George exclaimed as he stood up to grab more bags with food. By the cheerfulness in his tone, Casey assumed her mother hadn’t told him anything. "See, Nora? They're alive," he mocked affectionately. 

Nora smiled tentatively, finally breaking the visual contact to resume her work with the bags. “I was worried,” she mentioned, setting an egg carton on the counter. “You didn’t call and then there was that storm..."

"I'm sorry," Casey said, controlling her breathing. "I'm not used to letting you know when I spend the night somewhere else. Not that I do it that often. Actually, I _never_ do it," she added frantically, keenly aware that she sounded desperate, but unable to stop. "I always spend the night in my dorm, I just meant that I never call you when I go out, so I didn't even think—" 

“We crashed at Sam’s,” Derek intervened, looking at her meaningfully before approaching the counter. He motioned with his chin for Casey to follow his lead and she sidled up to his side, placing her hands on the counter. 

“That’s what I told her,” George claimed, closing the fridge to help Nora with the rest of their shopping. “But you know how she is.”

“You should answer your phones,” she insisted, letting her gaze shift between Derek and her daughter again. 

Casey looked away, watching George as he calmly checked the remaining bags. 

“Oh, come on, honey,” George smiled, turning to look at Nora. “They’re adults. Responsible. At least _one_ of them is.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Derek jeered, receiving a chuckle from his father. Casey just wanted one percent of his nonchalance and ability to disguise his inner turmoils. 

“I want to talk to both of you,” Nora announced, and Casey dragged her eyes back to her again, feeling her stomach drop to her feet. There was nothing threatening about her tone; in fact, she sounded as tranquil as ever. But her pointed look seemed to demand that they agreed to her suggestion. “Can we go upstairs for a moment? We can go to Casey's room.”

Casey nodded promptly, while Derek opened up a sarcastic smile and waved his hand in the air with a flourish saying, "Lead the way."

Nora eyed them closely for a few uncomfortable seconds and started walking towards the stairs. Derek laid one hand on Casey's back and gently pushed her forward when she didn't move, forcing her to follow her mother's steps. 

"If you want her to suspect something, you're doing a _wonderful_ job," he whispered in her ear, which made her shiver involuntarily.

Casey sped up her pace to free herself from his touch and made a beeline for her bedroom. Nora closed the door behind them, waiting as they walked to stand in the middle of the room, side by side. The world seemed to go silent when Nora approached them warily, her hands clasped in front of her body. 

“So?” Derek began, shoving his hands inside his pockets. “What’s this about?” 

She couldn't help but admire Derek's performance. He _had_ a talent for lying, which shouldn't be praised, but was extremely convenient for the situation. Nora might have believed him if she didn't know him as well as Casey. 

“I think you know.”

“Not really, no.”

Nora’s eyes flickered from Derek to Casey, who was now fidgeting with her hands, hoping she would survive that discussion without saying too much. That clearly wouldn’t be the case. She seemed to be evaluating Casey’s demeanor, comparing Ralph’s words to what she was able to see before her eyes. Casey lowered her hands and tried the best stoic expression she could manage. 

“Ralph was here last night,” Nora said, releasing Casey from her stare. There was no grand emotion detectable in her voice but a slight skepticism, as if she was openly welcoming them to deny what she was about to say. “And he told me you were—” She cleared her throat. “He told me you were dating.”

Nora kept her eyes on them, obviously waiting for a reaction or an intervention, but Casey couldn’t think about anything else besides how bizarre it felt to hear her mother say those words. Her expression didn’t indicate any negative emotions, but rather showed bewilderment.

“I thought he was joking, it’s Ralph,” she continued, shrugging before folding her arms and holding her elbows loosely. “But he sounded very serious. So... I want to know from you if that’s true. But by the way you’re behaving right now, I’m guessing it is.”

“What? _No_ ,” Derek hastened to say, shaking his head in a frantic manner. “No, this is all a misunderstanding.”

“Derek,” Nora tilted her head to the side; her voice was soft, but she sounded exhausted. “It would be stupid not to think that it’d happen. I saw the signs, but I ignored them trying to convince myself it was all in my head. But then you were off to college and I thought maybe things would change, I don’t know—”

“What?” Derek interrupted. “ _What the fuck_ are you talking about?”

Nora was so disoriented with the situation that she didn’t even reproach Derek’s language. Was she really implying that the supposed _signs_ had been around before they even went to college? 

Nora took a deep breath. Her tone was surprisingly bitter when she asked, “Why were you sleeping together on the couch the other night?”

Casey swore she could die from the mortification. She thought back to the conversation she had with Lizzie the day before; her sister had knocked on her door to chat and started asking questions about her new life at college. About _Derek_. And Casey couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something unusual about Lizzie’s behavior, like she was enjoying an inner joke she wasn’t privy to. 

She thought the family had arrived sometime during the early hours in the morning, but apparently that wasn’t the case. Now it made sense.

Casey hadn’t talked to Derek about what happened that night on the couch—and she intended to never bring the subject up—and discussing it when her mother was in the room, being the one _introducing_ the matter in question, wasn’t exactly ideal. Heart caught in her throat, she resisted the will to look at Derek. Thankfully, he recovered from the shock quite quickly to answer the question. 

“Because the movie sucked and we slept through it?” He was either incredibly good at balancing a bit of hostility and sarcasm or genuinely feeling irked. “What, is that forbidden now?”

“I just... It didn’t..." She sighed again. “It’s different. You didn’t look like... well, siblings.”

_Siblings_. The words made Casey’s stomach churn. She swallowed to keep from throwing up the few drops of coffee she had had since that morning. If she had any hopes that Nora wouldn’t condemn their—nonexistent—relationship, that statement combined with the concerned expression on her face decimated them. 

Of course she would never date Derek. Whatever she felt was nothing but a crush—the insane, inexplicable kind of infatuation that should never have happened,—but for one moment, all she wanted was for someone else to understand her; to guarantee her that it wasn’t wrong, that she was allowed to feel a certain way about him. She needed validation.

Because otherwise, she felt like a sinner. 

“That’s because we’re _not_ ,” Derek retorted, annoyed. 

Nora knitted her eyebrows in puzzlement. She crossed her arms even tighter, fixing her gaze on Derek. “So it _is_ true, then?”

“No. No, _obviously_ it’s not true. I’m just pointing that out. Nora, how could you even _believe_ that Casey and I would...” He glanced at Casey for a moment, pausing his speech. Something flickered in his eyes and then he shook his head, looking back at Nora. “You know us. That’s bullshit.”

She unsuccessfully tried to repress that crippling pain that gnawed at her insides. Her eyes were suddenly pricking with the threat of angered tears, but she gritted her teeth to stop them. Why did it hurt so much? Why did she have a sudden urge to slap Derek’s face? Everything was black and white with him: he either pleased or hurt her; she either loved or hated him. 

“Why would Ralph suddenly make that up?”

“He didn’t. _Entirely_ ,” Derek said. “Truman was at the party. He was bothering Casey and I went there to help her and he assumed we were dating. We just went with it. That’s it, that’s as far as it goes.” 

No, it wasn’t. They went farther than that. His lips had been on hers. Twice. She could still taste him if she closed her eyes and replayed the moment like she had been doing since that fateful day. She reproached herself mentally; maybe thinking about their kiss when her mother was present wasn’t the brightest idea. She was starting to blush. 

“So it’s _not_ true?” she asked, and Casey hated the way her mother’s tone transpired relief. 

Derek swayed his head from side to side, putting his hands into his pockets again. “No.”

Nora’s eyes lingered on his while she probably measured his words and considered them, deciding whether to believe them or not. Then, she directed her gaze to Casey, who sucked in her breath.

“I thought things were okay with Truman,” she said, softly. 

“They are,” she lied, her voice wavering a bit. “He was just being a little annoying, that’s all.”

Nora nodded, letting her arms fall perpendicular to her body. “Look, I know this is...” she paused, changing her weight from one foot to another. Casey could feel her uncomfortableness hitting her like a tidal wave. “It’s a little awkward, but I have to ask. Is there _anything_ going on between you two?”

Casey’s cheeks were burning now, as was her entire body; she would like nothing more than to hide in her room and never leave it again after that discussion was over. She slid her palm across the crook of her neck, feeling actual beads of sweat wet her skin. 

“Because if there is, I want you to tell me.”

“There’s _nothing_ going on, Nora,” Derek assured her, impatiently. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry, I just—I never thought we’d ever have a conversation like this, but I feel this is important. If something—”

“Mom, there’s no need,” Casey finally spoke up, the hint of a plea added to her voice. “There’s _nothing_. Derek was just trying to help me.”

Nora nodded slowly, embarrassment overtaking her face. “Okay. I believe you. That’s... nice of you, Derek,” she added. Then, she let out a nervous laugh. “You know what? Let’s just... forget this whole thing,” she decided with a sway of her hand. “I’ll, um... I’ll get started on lunch. Alright?”

Casey and Derek agreed with their heads, accepting Nora’s contrite look as a tacit apology and sighing in unison the moment she left the room in a hurry. Derek moved to close the door, leaning against it to rub his palms across his face in sheer annoyance. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

“I guess now we know how _she_ feels about it.”

“ _Fuck_ how she feels about it,” he snapped, crossing his arms and flickering his eyes to her bed. She studied his face diligently, the emotional part of her brain— _she needed to ignore it before she made a mistake!_ —assuring her he was angry. 

Why would he be angry, if not for the fact that Nora didn’t approve it? Or that she made it very clear without using words that it was wrong? Did he think about it as much as she did? Did he recoil at the sight of the word 'incest' like she did? Because she knew it didn't apply to their situation, but people thought it did.

But then again, Nora had just used that bizarre night on the couch as proof of an alleged relationship between them and he _did_ seem vexed at her assumption. Suddenly she questioned herself. Maybe she had been impregnating twisted meanings to everything Derek did. There was nothing outlandish about sleeping next to him on the couch, Marti had fallen asleep on her shoulder countless times while watching a movie; there was nothing weird about holding him during a storm, she had done it to Lizzie before. The only different element was _him,_ which changed everything to her. But that was _her_ problem, not his. 

“That was... a bit of a stretch,” she said, meeting Derek’s inquisitive look. “But she’s worried and she’s... seeing things. That aren’t necessarily true,” she added quickly, feeling her skin warming up. 

A line appeared on his forehead. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but then clammed it up and let his eyes wander somewhere above her shoulders. Casey frowned, expecting him to vocalize his thoughts; he _always_ had an answer to everything. The only time she _needed_ him to say something, he backed out. 

She wanted to shake his shoulders and force the words out of his mouth, but stuck to her place and sighed quietly.

“I just hate it,” he said, finally. “How they keep expecting us to act like siblings, whatever the fuck that means.”

“We can’t blame them, Derek,” she muttered, biting her lip to refrain herself from continuing. Reason battling emotion. Brain correcting heart. “We’re... family.” 

She couldn’t help a subtle wince as she said the last word; it sounded wrong and somewhat dirty. But she figured it was a much-needed reminder that they were linked by something bigger and deeper than improper ephemeral feelings she might have developed for him. 

Derek looked at her and the intensity in his gaze made her recoil. He looked slightly repulsed. “I thought we’d established I'm _not_ your brother.”

“We _share_ a brother.”

Derek blinked as if the thought had never occurred to him before. It was comical when it had never slipped her mind once ever since she learned about her mother being pregnant with Simon. She loved her brother deeply and would never wish he hadn't been born, but she often dreamed of an alternative reality in which Simon was a McDonald. His veins would have _her_ blood running through them, not Derek's. 

_What difference would that make?_

“It connects us,” she added quietly, almost sorrowful. 

Derek stood there silent, staring at her as if he could penetrate her thoughts. She looked away for fear that he could read them through her eyes, abominating the feeling of anguish that washed over her. She couldn't deny the attraction she felt for him, it had been there for longer than she was ready to admit; but if that was all it was, a simple chemical and frivolous reaction to his appearance and his tormenting words, why did it hurt so much to think that she couldn't... what? _Like_ him? _Date_ him? 

Her heart started pounding faster inside her chest while she tried her best not to display her agitation through her expression. _I_ don't _want to date Derek._ She lifted her eyes to him unwittingly and found him studying her with curiosity. _Fuck_.

Derek shook his head subtly and straightened his body; he reached back to hold the doorknob, wearing the usual deadpan mask on his face. “Don’t make it weird at lunch.”

“Why would I?”

“Because I know you.”

He left the room before she could give him an appropriate remark, which probably wouldn’t have happened even if he had stayed for the next thirty minutes. But she felt instantly empty, convalescing because of her own doubts. She couldn't allow herself to even cogitate a possible development of her purely depthless feelings. He was Derek and she was Casey and they weren't supposed to be anything but victims of that wicked universe that cursed them to be eternally linked by the title of step-siblings.

She wished she could grab her own heart and overflow it with whatever would make her forget about his existence. 

Throwing herself on her bed, she dialed Emily’s number on her phone and waited for her to pick up. Despite dreading another conversation and wanting nothing more than to hide in her bed until she was forced out of it to go back to Kingston, she had promised Emily to call as soon as possible.

“Are you okay? Was it bad? Are you breathing?” she blurted out the second she answered. 

“Kind of?”

“To which question? Casey, I can’t work with that!”

She swallowed. “It was..." _Painful._ "Embarrassing.”

“What did she say?” she pried.

“She was just asking questions, one after another. She seemed really upset with everything,” Casey said, sighing and closing her eyes. “But when we told her what happened, she was relieved.”

“Oh.” Emily waited a few seconds before mentioning, “You don’t sound too chirpy.”

“I’m exhausted. This whole thing was so humiliating, Em.”

Emily sighed on the other side of the line. Her tone was soothing when she said, “Just try to see it her way. Your mom heard it from _Ralph_ , she had no idea if it was true or not. She spent an entire night thinking you and Derek were hiding things from her.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s not just how she took everything, it's the way she looked at me..." Casey shook her head, her eyes still squeezed tight as she recalled Nora’s disapproving eyes. “Like I was doing something bad, like it was wrong."

“Case..." Emily began, carefully. “Is this bothering you?"

"Well, _yeah_. I never thought I'd hear my mom lecturing me about... _this_."

"No, I mean... don’t take this the wrong way, but _your mom reacting badly to it_ seems to be bothering you more than the awkwardness of going through this whole thing.”

Casey felt her heart clenching painfully in her chest. Her grip on the phone tightened, her fingers hurting with the pressure she was applying to it. She opened her eyes to her ceiling, contemplating telling Emily how much her chest felt empty and hollow at the idea of not being able to... _to what?_ If she couldn't sort out her own thoughts, how would Emily be able to help? And more importantly, Emily had already tried to plant ideas inside her head—ideas that could be dangerous; ideas that could confuse her and make her wish they were true. 

“You can talk to me, you know?” Emily offered, softly. 

“Em, I don’t want to talk right now.”

“That’s okay," she said. "But I'm one call away if you need me."

"Thank you."

“We’re, um... we’re still spending the day together tomorrow, right? To say goodbye?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, then. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Casey hung up, letting her arm lay by her side while she pressed her phone tightly against the mattress. Emily was too observant; there was nothing she couldn't discover, no matter how safely hidden Casey's thoughts were. It _did_ bother her; it bothered her that her mother would expect her to look at Derek and see the figure of a brother. It bothered her even more that she was able to do it with Edwin or Marti, but _never_ with Derek. Not even when they were merely acquaintances forced to live under the same roof.

She blamed it on their age at first. They were both fifteen and the collision of complete opposite worlds reigned by tenacious teenagers was bound to bring into existence a need for distancing. And perhaps it was a valid excuse, but she knew she could have allowed herself to learn how to love him like family as the years went by, only she didn't want to. Because the more she knew Derek, the more she saw past his arrogance and his vanity; the more she understood that her initial aversion to him had been caused by her own fears of what could happen the moment she felt attracted to him. She saw his sense of justice and even his empathy; his selflessness and his big, big heart. And sometimes it made her forget that cocky fifteen-year-old and the family he brought along with him.

Casey couldn’t understand how it was so ambiguously easy and hard. It was awfully easy to forget about the outside world when she was with Derek, as long as he allowed her to stay in her comfort zone; as long as he didn’t act like he cared about her, or didn’t stare at her until her stomach tied into knots, or didn’t smirk at her—that smirk that created a line on the corner of his mouth and made her heart flutter begrudgingly. 

Because _that_ was hard. _Those_ were the moments when she was reminded that there _was_ a world outside, and their blended family was a part of it. It was difficult to discern right from wrong. He never let her see the line; it was blurry, painted over with layers of uncertainty. And it was only a matter of time before she stepped over it. 

She wasn’t sure she hadn’t smudged the line with the tip of her shoes yet. 

Lizzie interrupted her thoughts when she knocked at her door a few moments later. “Hey. Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. Fine.” She forced a smile and nodded her head, watching as Lizzie stepped into her room and closed the door quietly. 

“I thought we didn’t lie to each other.”

Casey sighed, hiding her face in her hands. She heard Lizzie approaching and the mattress shifting under her weight as she took a place by her side and laid a hand on Casey’s shoulder.

“I know what’s going on,” Lizzie confessed.

Casey’s head snapped up to meet her sister’s eyes with urgency. “What?”

Lizzie shrugged, finally retrieving her hand from her shoulder. “I heard you guys talking.”

Casey stared at her agape. “You eavesdropped?”

“I _swear_ I didn’t mean to,” she said, shaking her head for emphasis, “but I was passing and I heard Derek say something. He sounded mad. So, I just... kind of... stopped walking and listened.” She smiled bashfully. 

“Oh, my God,” Casey whined, shoving her face into her hands again. “Now we’ve brought _you_ into this.”

“That’s okay,” Lizzie guaranteed in her soothing voice. Casey looked up to see she was smiling. Somehow, they had traded places in comforting each other, and Casey realized how much her younger sister had grown over the past year. 

“No, everything’s a mess.”

“Well, what _isn’t_ a mess in this family?” she joked, chuckling lightly. Casey agreed with her head, flashing her a weak smile. “I just wanted you to know that... well, I know mom sounded a little mad. But... I understand. And I’m here.”

Casey furrowed her brows, subtly jerking her head back as she assessed her sister’s encouraging smile. She blinked, rewinding her words as she tried to find a final definition for them.

“What do you mean?”

Lizzie sighed quietly, folding her leg under her body to turn to Casey. Her clear blue eyes shone with a compassion Casey didn’t want to see. Now now. Not regarding the subject. 

“Casey, you can tell me everything, you know that, right?”

“Of course.”

“Are you and Derek dating?” she asked, lowering her voice.

Slack-jawed, Casey couldn’t help a sarcastic laugh that sounded nervous. “What?”

Lizzie placed both her hands on Casey’s leg, leaning in as if to tell her a secret. “Because you can tell me if you are. Really, I’m here for you. I support it.”

“You... _support_ it?” Casey echoed, her eyes widening as her pulse quickened by the second. 

Lizzie nodded eagerly. “Of course! There’s nothing wrong with it. It _is_ a little weird,” she added with a chuckle. “I mean, I always thought there was something going on between you two, but I never thought _Derek_ would admit it.”

Casey reached for Lizzie’s hands as though to make her stop. The amount of information left her dumbfounded, partially dizzy. 

“Lizzie, wha—the— _what_?”

Her sister smiled, probably amused by her stuttering. Her mind was usually filled with words, but it had been completely emptied by shock now. 

“Oh, come on,” Lizzie chuckled again. “I never understood how _no one_ noticed how you two kept literally flirting with each other every time you fought at dinner. Or anywhere, really,” she added with an eye roll. "There's always tension with you two."

_There’s a fine line between fighting and flirting with you two,_ Emily had told her just a few days before. But it was impossible. She knew Derek _did_ sound flirtatious most of the time, but it was his smugness transpiring while he provoked her until she had no other option but to bark back. And if she paid any extra attention to that stupid smirk of his, it was to daydream about wiping it off of his equally stupid face.

“But I guess they _did_ notice, or at least _mom_.” She sighed. “I thought when you guys left for college you’d kind of feel free to finally realize your feelings and all that. You know, away from mom and George and all that... pressure. I mean... they can't expect you to see each other like family. It doesn't work like that.”

Casey knew she had to say something; Lizzie surely couldn’t leave her room thinking she was dating Derek, but it was difficult to concentrate on something to say when there were so many thoughts flitting through her mind. 

“Yes," she agreed, but when she realized that her words could be taken as a confession and Lizzie's lips were twitching up, she shook her head. "But we weren’t—I mean, there was no _flirting_ ,” she affirmed, although her voice sounded stricken.

“All the teasing and the glances?” She raised her eyebrows, smiling amusedly. “I can't believe even _you_ didn't notice. And you guys still do that. I think it's worse than before.”

“If you heard everything we said,” Casey began, her voice finding its strength again and sounding oddly bitter, “then that’s it. We’re _not_ dating _or_ lying and whatever you think you're seeing, it’s all in your head.”

Lizzie’s face fell. "Oh."

Casey nodded, softening her look over her sister's face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude," she said. "It's just... I didn't think the story would get out, it wasn't _supposed_ to. You know how I feel about lying. And I just feel horrible about the whole thing."

Lizzie nodded in understanding. "Yeah, of course. And I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought you might need reassurance.”

“Reassurance?”

“I know how anxious mom’s reaction might make you feel,” she explained. "Which is why I figured you were... well, _lying_ about it, so she wouldn't reproach you."

Casey gave her a weak smile. "I know you meant well."

"But I just want to be sure that you know that even if it _were_ true, there would be nothing wrong about it," she insisted. "Don't feel bad about what mom said."

“Lizzie..."

Lizzie sighed and opened her mouth to say something else, but someone knocked on the door before she could get the words out. Edwin opened the door, but his eyes were glued to his phone as he typed something with one hand. “Nora said to wash up for lunch.”

“We’re coming,” Lizzie said, waiting for Edwin to close the door again before turning to Casey. “Can I just say something?”

“What?”

“The Derek I know wouldn’t willingly pretend to be your boyfriend to help you with your stupid ex without getting anything out of it.”

She gently patted Casey’s leg and stood up to leave her room without saying another word. Casey stared at her door, feeling slightly guilty for wishing that Lizzie’s words meant exactly what she intended for them to mean. That there _were_ ulterior motives for Derek to help her. But he only felt guilty for bringing Truman into her life again. He _was_ getting something out of it, even if it was a consoling sense of forgiveness. 

Determined to gloss over everything else Lizzie said— _especially_ her supportive words and her claims that their fights were flirtatious—she made her way down the stairs, intending to put on the social mask that would help her survive a few minutes with her family. But it didn’t look or sound natural. 

Nora wasn’t as talkative as usual, only adding her insights to the conversation that George and the kids introduced when she felt it necessary; Derek was awfully quiet, sticking to talking to and helping Marti with her food. Casey followed their examples and stared at her food the entire time, only nodding or laughing when the kids laughed. 

She looked up at some point, as Edwin was telling a funny story from school, and Derek’s eyes latched onto hers accidentally. It lasted merely a couple of seconds, but it felt like they were sharing a secret no one else knew. When she noticed Marti analyzing them both with curiosity, she focused her food again. 

Soon the subject had changed to Edwin's and Lizzie's school prom and it gave Casey an excuse to ask Edwin about his plans to take Hannah Sparks as his date. After lunch, she followed him into his room and checked the post-its he had written, helping him organize them inside the book. 

“Thanks, Casey,” he said, giving her a surprise quick side hug that warmed her heart. She had just finished wrapping the book for him. “I’m so nervous I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“You’re going to be fine,” she assured him, touching his arm. “Did you text her to meet you at the cafe?”

“Yes. She hasn’t replied yet.”

“Well, maybe she hasn’t _seen_ it yet.”

Edwin’s phone rang once with a new notification as Casey finished her sentence and he practically threw himself on his bed to reach for the object that had been lying there. He opened a broad smile while reading the message. 

“She said yes!”

“See?” Casey smiled. “I told you.”

Edwin took a deep breath, typing something on his phone. “Now I just have to remember everything Derek told me. I can't mess everything up.”

“What _exactly_ did he tell you?” she pried, fearful for Edwin’s relationship in anticipation.

“I can’t tell you,” Edwin said, lifting his head to look at her. “Sorry, it’s a man thing.”

Casey rolled her eyes, excusing herself to let him prepare for his date. She only hoped Derek hadn’t completely ruined his chances to charm Hannah with his speeches about inflicting jealousy or pretending not to care about the girl. She had seen him applying those methods in real life and, after some time, it started to backfire. 

She was sitting on the couch with a book in her hands when Edwin walked to the front door with a bag in his hand. With his hair tidily brushed back and dressed in his best clothes, he flashed her a nervous smile and she gave him a thumbs-up before he left the house. An easy smile spread across her lips as she spied on him through the front window, seeing the way Derek’s leather jacket fit him nicely. 

Casey heard heavy steps on the stairs and turned her head to watch Derek make his way to the foyer. He was putting his wallet in his pocket, completely unaware of her presence when she teased him, “You’re actually following my advice?” 

Derek halted and whirled around to look at her with arched eyebrows. “Care to elaborate?”

“Edwin with your jacket?”

He rolled his eyes, approaching her to casually stand behind the couch and rest his forearms on its back. “I did it to keep the Venturi rep alive. But there’s only so much I can do.”

“ _Sure_.” She closed her book, using her finger to mark the page she had stopped on, and turned her body to meet his eyes. “You can admit I got through to you.”

Derek scoffed. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Casey rolled her eyes, folding one arm to lean her elbow on the back of the couch, just a few centimeters from his arm. She didn’t know if her ability to self-sabotage was innate or provoked by his presence.

“What the hell did you tell him to say to Hannah?”

Derek narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you questioning my methods again?”

“I _always_ question your methods, Derek. Regarding anything.”

He snorted. “I know what I’m doing.”

"Did you tell him to flirt with every girl who crosses his way in front of Hannah?"

Derek rolled his eyes again, motioning to straighten his body to leave. Casey grabbed his forearm instinctively, forcing him down; he looked at her hand with a cocked eyebrow and she quickly removed it from his arm. 

“What did you tell him?” she insisted. 

He sighed, groaning dramatically as he dragged his eyes back to her. “This girl is basically you. I just told him to do whatever would make you fall for any idiot.”

She gasped at his audacity, which made him smirk. “That’s—you—what does that even _mean_?” Her voice came out higher at the end of the sentence. 

“It’s self-explanatory, Casey.”

She scoffed. “Like you’d even know how to make that happen.”

Derek’s smirk grew even bigger as he leaned forward, sliding his arm over the couch until it was pressed against hers, his face so close she could count his freckles. Her heart skipped a beat, resulting in a desperate claim for air; their skin touching was sending electric waves through her body. 

“Let’s see if it works, then.”

She knew he was aware of the ambiguity of his own words, rejoicing in the idea of teasing her, yet she still fell on his trap and clenched her jaw, hating the fact that her body was ratting her out by making her blush. Derek noticed it and let out a derisive ‘ _huh_ ’, flashing her another smirk before standing straight and making his way to the front door.

Casey stood still for a few seconds, staring at the book she still held in her hand, trying to normalize her breath. She had accidentally crumpled the cover of the book by clutching it too tightly. When she adjusted herself on the couch, she heard a metallic noise coming from the kitchen. Turning her head to investigate it, she found her mother with a pot in her hand, her eyes already glued to her face. 

Casey offered her a forced smile and sank into the couch, wondering how long Nora had been there for. 

***

Edwin crossed the threshold of the front door with the broadest smile Casey had ever seen. Nora didn’t even have the heart to scold him for arriving thirty minutes after the curfew she had established for him when the boy practically floated on clouds while making his way to his room, not even bothering to join the family dinner happening in the dining room. 

Casey was elated for her step-brother and for her participation in his process of conquest, but the success of his strategy was also a consequence of _Derek_ ’s help and she couldn’t stop thinking about their flirtatious banter from a few hours before. 

Thankfully, Nora hadn’t mentioned it when she joined her and George in the kitchen to help with dinner—she doubted she would, but after the awkward conversation from earlier, she didn’t know what to expect anymore,—yet the images kept replaying on their own volition in her mind. The audacity, the arrogance, the assurance in his countenance while he acted like he knew how to mess with her heart, because he _did_ ; and that smirk—that stupid, stupid smirk that held her hostage against her will. 

She was thankful he hadn’t shown up for dinner, saving her from another forty minutes of palpable tension and discomfort. But his physical absence wasn’t a guarantee of his absence in her mind; she realized it was slowly becoming an unhealthy obsession caused by his foolish actions. He flirted and he teased and she always got stuck in his invisible web. He had always done it; his naturally flirtatious stare and words bordering on dangerous, but it had never really meant a thing until he kissed her. 

Casey sighed, turning for what felt like the millionth time in her bed, staring blankly at the numbers on the clock on her bedside table. She watched them go from _3:18 a.m_ to _3:56 a.m_ in utter silence, only averting her eyes to her door when she heard lumbering steps down the hall. 

She tried to ignore them, but given that her eyelids wouldn’t drop on their own so soon and that it could be Marti or Lizzie needing her help, she quickly fixed her hair and got out of bed. Still yawning, she opened the door only to find Derek in the middle of the hall, wearing the same clothes he had on when he left the house.

He noticed her immediately and approached her to use the wall as support for his hand. His pale skin was now slightly rosy from the alcohol and his hair was a mess. She nearly sighed at how hot he looked even disheveled. 

“God, are you drunk?”

“No, it's method acting," he joked, rolling his eyes.

She sighed, worry washing over her. "You can't drive when you're like that, Derek!" 

"Do you want some help waking up everyone in the house?"

"Where were you?"

He blinked, furrowing his forehead. "None of your business." Then, he flashed her a wry smile and motioned to walk by her.

"Your room is that way, you idiot," she said, stopping him with a hand to his chest and waving with the other at his bedroom. 

“I was going to the _bathroom_ ,” he grumbled, but whirled around to reach his doorknob. 

Casey watched him open the door and leave it ajar, starting another battle inside her mind. Lately, he had been the main cause of her mental distress. She was extremely aware of the fact that he was an adult, capable of finding his own bed after ingesting too much alcohol. But emotion quickly beat reason—it had been happening too often for her to ignore it—and her feet carried her to his room in careful steps.

Derek didn’t realize she had followed him up until he sat on his bed and looked up. He grunted, his tone resembling a whiny child when he asked, “What do you want, Casey?" 

"To make sure you don't end up sleeping in a pool of your own vomit."

"I'm not _that_ drunk."

"I beg to differ."

He pointed at the opposite wall with his finger. "Just go to your room."

"Wow, what happened?” she asked, annoyed by his coldness. “It's been a long time since you acted like a complete jerk. Couldn't get any girl to leave with you?"

Derek rolled his eyes, standing up to cross his room and sift through a pile of clothes that had been carelessly tossed over the back of his chair, throwing away the ones he didn’t want. Casey marched to his side, begrudgingly picking the pieces of clothing up and trying to fold them as best as she could to put them on the seat of the chair. 

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked when he found a pair of black sweatpants. 

Casey was quickly running out of patience; she had witnessed him getting drunk and behaving in ways he usually wouldn’t many times, but never going back to his old ways with her. She wondered if he had noticed what she had picked on before; if he realized that he couldn’t be playful anymore after kissing her. If he was trying to do what he attempted to do on their first day back in London: shutting her out. 

"Helping you. Most people would say ‘thank you’."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not like most people, then, isn't it?" he jeered, grabbing the hem of his shirt to take it off without warning. 

Casey’s eyes slid instinctively down his torso; her lips parted involuntarily, her cheeks flushing like she had been exposed to the cold air of a December night, although her body felt warm. Too warm. Hot.

She was keenly aware that she should look away, but there was a force stronger than her; invisible magnetic waves that demanded her attention to be centered on him and him only. And she was only human. Seldom, she had to remind herself that he wasn’t a teenage boy anymore; his body had changed over the course of a year. There were muscles outlining his abs, shoulders and arms now. Those same arms that held her just a few days ago, pulling her to him. She wouldn't mind feeling them around her one more time. 

"Der- _ek_!" she reproached when he started to unzip his pants, unbothered by her presence. 

She finally turned around with her hands over her eyes, just for good measure. Her entire body buzzed with a rousing feeling that burned her insides and rang the alarms in her mind.

_Get out. Now._

"This is _my_ room,” he reminded her. “You're welcome to appreciate the view, though." 

The return of his humor in his tone would have brought her relief had it been attributed to another sentence. Now it only brought her regret; she should have listened to him and gone back to her bedroom. Suddenly, the air didn’t seem to be nearly enough for her lungs and the robe she had draped around her body was too warm. But taking it off was obviously out of the question. 

“You’re a pig.”

"I'm decent now," he announced aloud, to which Casey angrily shushed him. 

She walked to the door in quick steps to close it. _Close_ it. Instead of taking the opportunity to leave that personal hell she had created, she chose to stay. It was at that moment that Casey realized she was just as much at fault as Derek. Her obsession was a product of her own mind. She was making those choices for _herself_ , purposefully walking into situations that could be dangerous. She _wanted_ that rush. She _craved_ it.

Derek laughed as if her despair was amusing to him. It probably was.

She turned to him again, squinting her eyes; there was a bed and the entire perimeter of a room between them now, but she could still feel the tension that surrounded them like a winding, invisible noose, pressing her throat with a silent threat to smother her. 

He still didn’t have a shirt on and she accepted the fact that he wouldn’t put one on when he strode to her, his gaze securely fixed on her eyes like he could bore a hole into them. He stopped at a minimum distance, towering over her; his scent and his presence flooding her senses to the point where she had to remind herself to keep breathing. 

_This is wrong. This is wrong in so many ways._

“Casey, what do you really want here?" 

She blinked, resorting to the best look of determination she could manage, despite the goosebumps the huskiness in his voice had caused her. There was no sign of humor in his face, but somehow, it seemed like it was just another one of his games. Yet his question made perfect sense, and she had no idea what she wanted. 

"I'm just helping you," she uttered, the determination long forgotten when her mind was too foggy. 

Derek took another step, forcing her to tilt her chin up to reach his eyes. Casey drew a sharp breath, clenching her fists.

"I think you're lying."

"I think you're drunk."

Her instincts were howling, begging her to preserve herself and go back to her bed, but she didn’t think she would be able to take a single step back even if she tried. Her poor heart pounded savagely against her throat, her eyes incapable of escaping his prison. She swallowed, and the sound seemed extremely loud in the silence of his room.

"Is this making you nervous?" he asked.

"What?" 

He didn’t reply, instead choosing to let his eyes candidly roam over her face, challenging her, silently teasing. She cursed mentally when she felt the familiar heat making its way from her neck to her face. 

"You're drunk," she repeated, hopelessly, for the lack of any other ideas of what to say.

"You're blushing."

He wasn’t touching her, but his breath ghosting over her skin was sending chills down her spine. Why was she so attracted to him? Why did her body yearn for him to approach, to get closer, to let her feel his skin under hers? 

“Why?" he urged. 

Her chest heaved with the labored breaths she was trying to control. She dropped her eyes to the floor, but it was proven a bad idea when they stopped at his bare torso before completing their job. She was hanging on to the belief that he wouldn’t remember a single thing tomorrow. 

“You keep playing with fire," he continued, and she wrongfully raised her head to look into his eyes again. They burned with an ironic flame that scared her, like combustion ready to begin. Suddenly he didn’t look drunk anymore. "And you know it."

"I'm not doing anything."

"No?"

"No." It came out as a whisper. 

He nodded, although evidently unconvinced. "Then tell me why you're here."

"I told you—"

"Not that crap. You're not helping me. I know exactly what I'm doing, I can find my bed."

Her stomach twisted at the thought that, maybe, he wasn’t as drunk as she thought. Or maybe he had been acting drunker than he was. _What the fuck is he doing?_

She shook her head, suddenly angry. "You’re fucked up, Derek."

Bristling at his devious idea of a joke, she motioned to move away from him; but before she could take the first step back, Derek held her arm, and in a swift movement, he pushed her against his door. 

She gasped as he placed both his hands on the door on each side of her body, hovering over her with a brazen stare as he practically decimated the space between their bodies. 

Casey was petrified; her eyes were wide and her body was trembling, but it wasn’t fear. A wave of bottled-up desire crashed down on her, incinerating her skin from the inside. It wasn’t supposed to be happening. That wasn’t okay. But her lips were tingling with the urge to lean in just a bit and close the distance between them, to end that agony that made her insides writhe restlessly. 

She licked her lips subtly, an unconscious movement, and he stared at her mouth for the space of several hard breaths before dragging his eyes back to hers. The air around them was already fraught with an agonizing tension. An ardent, almost sinful feeling bloomed inside her, burning her from the inside, making its way lower and lower until she was faced with the scary truth that she wanted him. 

Indecorous thoughts began to pervade her mind, things she had only dreamed of and hidden securely inside her mind. She was positively sure that her cheeks were a deep shade of crimson, but her embarrassment was promptly overshadowed by a foolish desire to step onto that ledge and risk it all; only the ledge was too small and she was already in danger of falling.

"Derek—what are you doing?" she mumbled. 

"Just testing a theory," he said, too hoarsely for her sanity. 

Her gaze dropped to his lips unwittingly. The need to kiss him was so strong it hurt; she wrapped her fingers around the fabric of her own robe to keep her from reaching his face and drawing his lips down to hers. 

"Fuck," he whispered.

She lifted her eyes to him again, swallowing. “What?”

"Smerek?" a small voice called from the hall.

Derek jolted away abruptly, staring at his door. Casey gathered whatever was left of her lucidness and did the same, frantically pulling the front of her robe, even though it was still secure around her body. 

Marti was still a child and naive, but she was old enough to understand that Casey wasn’t supposed to be in Derek’s room so late in the night. Not that they were doing anything, or _would_ do anything for that matter, but it definitely wasn’t the most brilliant idea she had ever had. Although thankful for her interruption, she was vexed to find a feeling of frustration beginning to build up. 

Derek turned to her again, his eyes suddenly alert. He promptly grasped her hand and dragged her to stand behind his door, casting a meaningful look to silence her before opening it. Casey covered her mouth with her hand to ascertain that she wouldn't make a sound. 

He cleared his throat. "Hey, Smarti. What are you doing here? It's late." 

"I heard a noise,” Marti croaked out. “It scared me.”

_Probably my body being pressed against your brother’s door._ Casey closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, chastising herself.

“Yeah, I just... dropped something, it was nothing,” he said. “It’s okay.”

“Well, do you mind if I sleep here with you anyway?"

Casey could sense his hesitation even with her eyes closed. Her heart was hammering so loud against her ribs she feared it would break them and find an exit for itself. That inappropriate urge to send everything to hell and roll the dice just to see where she was capable of going hadn't vanished yet.

“Um... yeah. Yeah, okay. Come on." 

She opened her eyes and watched as Derek held Marti’s hand and walked slowly to his bed, leaving the door open behind. The precision in his steps was the confirmation that he was sober enough. 

Casey gritted her teeth and quietly stepped out of his room, not daring to look behind her as she entered her own bedroom, pressing her back against her door as soon as she regained the ability to breathe. 

Her hands were trembling and her stomach was doing somersaults, threatening to make her vomit her entire dinner on the floor. Either she had lost her mind or that wasn’t simply a crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah, I love writing tension between those two. Hopefully, what I had in mind translated well into those words ❤️
> 
> Also, I had kind of structured this fic beforehand, so I'd know how many chapters it would have, but I'm getting new ideas and I'm thinking about making it a little longer (like 2 chapters max, but I think it will be better this way). So I might take a little longer to update!
> 
> Again, thank you SO much for your comments and kudos, you're all amazing ❤️  
> Have a lovely day!


	8. Of Practice and Math

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back ❤️
> 
> I hope you guys are doing okay! I'm sorry it took me this long to post, but so much has happened and I finally had time to go over this chapter. (Just a heads up: this is filled with cliches. No, seriously, I managed to add two of my favorite tropes here, you'll be able to tell 😂)  
> Now enjoy your reading!

_“And I just can't turn away, feelings don't hesitate_

_I'll be crushed under the waves, if that's the price I'll pay_

_I'd offer all the more, love holds an open door_

_Inside the world's on pause, what are we waiting for?”_

_(Out of Nowhere - Seafret)_

Derek 

Derek only fell asleep due to exhaustion; both mental and physical. Which proved to be ineffectual in the end, given that he felt worse than before when he woke up the next day. His head hurt and his body felt too tense. 

It wasn’t a hangover, because he definitely wasn’t too drunk. 

He would like to think he didn’t know what came over himself, but he did. One more time, going against everything he ever stood for, he let his emotions overrule any drop of reason still left in his body. 

The worst part was that he had gone out that night to _regain_ control. Sam had invited both him and Ralph to a dance club, where he had been able to have fun up until a girl approached him on the dance floor and pressed her back against his chest as though they knew each other very well for that kind of intimacy. 

Derek wanted to let go, to roll the dice and oblige to the game that girl was setting. He _really_ did. He couldn’t remember the girl’s name, for a change, but she was beautiful and sexy and in any other situation, his ego would be exploding and enhancing his desire. 

He accepted her hand when she pulled him into the hidden corner of the club; he kissed her with a roughness that bordered on anger, lips crashing onto hers like she was to blame for the torment inside his mind; he let the frustration and the irritation turn into a twisted feeling of greediness that clouded his senses to the moment she hooked one leg around his hip and broke the kiss to whisper in his ear that they should move it to a quieter place. 

It would have been so easy: have sex, forget about everything else, focus on nothing but his own pleasure. Yet he couldn’t do it. Because he knew that this familiar sequence of mistakes was another one of his attempts to get Casey out of his system, as he had tried to do many times before. It never worked. And going home with another girl when he had been vehemently flirting with Casey just a few hours before, when he had kissed her the previous day, when he had fallen deeply and foolishly in love with her, would not resolve anything. 

He reckoned his 15-year-old self would threaten to kill him if he could see him now. 

“I’m sorry, rain check,” he muttered bitterly, slightly sorry for taking it out on someone who wasn’t to blame. 

Derek left the girl before she could say anything and quickly spotted the table he and his friends had occupied at their arrival. He caught a glimpse of Sam and Ralph dancing with a group of people he didn’t know, all swaying their bodies to a song he also didn’t know. He lived for music, alcohol and girls. Yet he had never felt so out of place.

He grabbed his wallet and took out a few bills, placing them on the table. When he turned around to leave, he stopped on his heels upon seeing his best friend next to him. 

Sam arched his eyebrows at the money he had left on the table and then raised his eyes to look at him. “You're leaving?"

"Yeah."

"With that girl?"

Derek only cast him a murderous look, seething with vexation when a knowing smile spread on his friend’s lips.

"What else do you need to accept you've got it bad?"

He didn’t _need_ anything else. He knew it very well, even hated himself for it. But Sam didn’t have to—and would _not_ —hear him confirm it. 

"I'm not in the mood, Samuel."

Sam’s hand firmly held his shoulder, although Derek hadn’t moved. "Dude, I'm your best friend,” he said, seriousness overflowing in his tone. “If there's anyone rooting for you, it's me."

Derek clenched his jaw, moving Sam’s hand away from his shoulder with unnecessary violence. “Fuck off, Sam.”

"Come on. Hey, look at me, D," he insisted, friendly smacking Derek’s arm, completely unaffected by his hostility. "You're the one making it harder than it needs to be." He shook his head, turning his palms upwards, puzzled. "For fuck's sake, you never had any problem coming onto a girl. Why's this so hard?"

 _Because it’s fucking Casey._ It was Casey and she was untouchable like a thin glass dome that could crack if he tried to get too close. There were millions of reasons to choose from: Nora was clearly against it and Casey would never act against _her_ , he wasn’t certain about his feelings being reciprocated and, of course, he didn’t do relationships. Not with her. Even if he allowed himself to tell her what he felt, it would only be a matter of time before she realized that he didn’t deserve her and left his life. 

What irked him the most was the cruel foreshadowing of the universe, which he was only able to fully understand a few years after meeting her for the first time. She was off-limits from the start and it was verbally emphasized by George the night before the McDonalds moved into their house. 

“Remember, Derek, they’re family now,” he said in an unusual warning tone that felt like a silence request for him not to ruin anything by making a move on someone who was supposed to be his step-sister. _Family_. The word made him feel nauseated. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied determinedly. A comical response for someone who couldn’t stop worrying about it now. 

He went back to reality, ignoring Sam’s words to motion at the money on the table again. His voice sounded calmer when he said, “If you need more to cover it, let me know.”

"She's into you too," Sam revealed, the hand on his arm squeezing it gently. It felt like he was comforting him and Derek despised pity. But his words prodded at his heart, silently turning into a hopeful feeling. "If that's what you're worried about—"

"I'm not worried about anything."

"Fine.” Sam raised his hands as if redeeming himself, his tone more impatient than before. “Go ahead. Go wallow like a teenage girl. And leave a tip for me, tolerating you today was a fucking torture."

Derek marched out onto the street with smoke coming out of his ears. His hands itched to take out his anger on Sam, but he knew the vicious feeling wasn’t directed at him. He was only trying to help. But still, Derek ended up stuck in his dilemma: he wouldn’t gain anything by being straightforward with Casey besides ruining their relationship. 

All he wanted was to liquidate everything she made him feel, to go back to his old life, devoid of so many complicated feelings. Was that what being in love felt like? A cluster of feelings that smothered him constantly? A painful reminder that he couldn’t do anything about it? He couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t act on it. Why did he have to feel it, then?

He had had a few drinks, but he wasn’t drunk. Not one bit. He may have relied on that narrative, however, when he found her awake after getting home. Perhaps at first, he only wished to avoid her; he thought that seeing him drunk and distant from reality might drive her away. But it didn’t.

She followed him inside, brooked his coldness and stayed. He didn’t want to theorize it, but the fact that she chose to stay _did_ mean something. Not only that, but the way she looked at him; the way she trembled when he took the final step towards her; the way her eyes kept slipping down to his body; the way he could almost hear her heart pounding against her chest—or maybe it was his own. 

He needed to know if it was true. If Sam was right. He needed to know if her blushing and stuttering words were merely embarrassment or attraction. In the spur of the moment, he made a colossal mistake; yet when he pressed his body against hers, he wanted to believe it. He stared at her eyes, lit up by yearning and he wanted to believe it. Her eyes traveled down to his lips and he just wanted to fucking believe it. 

Logically, she didn’t talk to him the next day; granted she had gone out with Emily and only came back at night, but the silent treatment remained nonetheless. She probably thought he was messing with her. Derek knew he had to solve everything, but for that to happen, he would have to _talk_. And he wasn’t very good at it. 

So, the next best thing—and his go-to method whenever Casey was mad at him and chose silence over yelling—was pretending he couldn’t remember anything and wait for the storm to pass. Only it was taking longer than usual. 

On Saturday, they had to say goodbye to their family and leave London again. He was already dreading the drive to Queen’s, having been contemplating addressing the subject on the road. They hadn’t said more than ten words to each other over the past couple of days and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by their family. He waited until they were near campus to speak; Casey had been driving in utter silence, only humming occasionally to the folk songs that filled the car. He hadn’t even argued about the genre choice when she turned on the radio, he desperately needed something to keep the tension from arising between them. 

"So,” he began, risking a glance at her, “when are we going to be on speaking terms again? Just so I can mark it on my calendar." 

Casey kept staring ahead, but he saw her knuckles getting whiter as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. He wouldn’t get anywhere by using humor, so he straightened himself on his seat and sighed.

"Look, I have no idea what I did," he blatantly lied, "so if I said something bad, you should be used to it by now."

She clenched her jaw, and he was questioning his timing when she swerved in between two cars. "You have no idea what you did?"

"I was wasted."

She opened her mouth, but soon closed it, shaking her head. He knew he had been over the line, but he didn’t imagine it would have irked her so deeply. 

"Casey,” he tried again, “I've insulted you more times than I can count. Whatever I said, just forget about it and move on. I'm sure I didn't even mean it."

It was a piece of advice for himself as well, only it wasn’t as easy. 

"That's how you do things, isn't it?" she retorted, resentful. Her eyes still glued to the traffic. "Just forget it and move on."

Derek sighed, resting his elbow on the edge of his window to stare at the blurry view. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to engage in a fight with her; they weren’t fun when she was truly mad at him. But if he could do things differently, he probably wouldn’t—he was impulsive and reckless, after all. 

He helped her with her bags when they finally arrived at the campus, hoping that would help his attempt to make amends. But as they reached her dorm, she only thanked him and closed her door in his face.

With a despondent feeling coursing through his body, he went to his dorm to find it in complete silence and solitude. His roommates weren’t back yet and he had to manage a whole day by himself. Certain that he would soon lose his mind if he wasted all that time thinking about Casey and his stupid feelings, he tried to focus on training and video games until the next day. 

After another sleepless night, he decided to find her. He didn’t expect Tom Walsh to throw a wrench on his plans, however, because as he made his way to her dorm, there he was, sitting by her side at the nearest cafe. Casey looked very comfortable chatting with him and Derek’s blood boiled in his veins, bringing him a new-found sentiment that felt dangerously close to jealousy. 

Like a grumpy child, he marched back to his dorm and swore to stop playing that foolish part; he had lost his essence, his own personality by being a slave to his own feelings. When had that happened? When had he been reduced to that pathetic version of Derek?

Still, he silently waited for her to find him, but it never happened. When intrusive thoughts about Tom Walsh keeping her too busy for her to even remember him began to run through his mind, he neglected his own new plans to ignore her and, against his better judgment and guided by anger, decided to try it one more time. 

Derek opted to wait for nighttime, hoping to find her alone in her dorm. Only she wasn’t in her dorm. _Or_ alone. It took him a moment to notice she was talking to someone near one of the benches at the quad as he made his way out of his building. He gritted his teeth upon the recognition that it was Truman. 

_Fuck, I can’t get a break_.

Casey’s eyes spotted him across the distance and he grew instantly alert, frowning in surprise when she waved her hand in the air, instructing him to approach. Like a miserable puppet, he obliged, walking in quick steps towards the duo. 

“Where were you?” Casey asked, her voice sounding almost desperate as she reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers. 

Derek felt his body instantly corresponding to the unexpected touch, and he couldn’t help but feel elated with the situation. She needed him to follow the lead and that was exactly what he would do, both for his own satisfaction and for Truman’s dismay. 

“Sorry, I bumped into Pete on the way here,” he lied, planting a chaste kiss on her lips, which made her freeze subtly. He turned to Truman. “You _really_ transferred. I was kind of hoping that was like a nightmare I had or something.”

Truman flashed him a sarcastic smile. “Casey didn’t mention that we’ve met earlier?”

Derek bit the inside of his cheek, suppressing a curse. “Well, it’s kind of a triggering subject for her, we don’t talk about it.” He turned his head to look at Casey, who lifted her chin to meet his eyes. “Let’s go?”

She nodded promptly. “Yeah.” Turning to Truman, she said a low “Bye.”

Truman narrowed his eyes at both of them for a few seconds and then nodded back. “See ya.”

Casey tugged at Derek’s hand and he squeezed hers gently, beginning to walk towards his own dorm, which was the nearest in sight. It had been only a day, but while he had her hand secured in his, it felt like he hadn’t talked to her in ages. 

“Is he stalking you or something?” he asked the moment they were inside the building.

Casey pulled her hand to herself and he sighed quietly, traipsing down the hall with her by his side. 

“Seems like it,” she murmured.

Derek rejoiced on the fact that she hadn’t stopped walking, blindly following him. Her tone was as soft as always, which brought him immense relief; if she hadn’t forgiven him yet, she was trailing down the path to do so. 

“I just found out he’s in two of my classes,” she added. 

“What are the odds?” he mumbled, fishing for his keys in his pocket when they stopped in front of his door. “So you talked to him today?” he asked, as casually as possible, when he opened the door for her to pass.

His roommates still hadn’t arrived, so he had the dorm to himself. Casey accepted the silent invitation without objection, and he closed the door as soon as he followed her in.

“We ran into each other when I was going to get breakfast. He just followed me there.”

“You can always file a complaint,” he reminded her. “If he’s harassing you.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s fine.”

“You’re too nice.” He tossed his keys on the desk near the wall. “Just tell him to fuck off and there you have it. You should’ve told me the second he tried to approach you.”

Casey’s mouth twitched a bit and, for a split second, he thought she was about to smile, even though she had no reason to. She moved to take a seat on the edge of his bed while he flopped down onto the couch, beginning to take off his shoes. 

“He didn’t try... anything,” she said, crossing her legs to accommodate herself. “Actually, he’s just started doing therapy and it kind of seems like it’s doing him good.”

Derek rested his hands on the couch, leaning back to assess her body language. If she was suggesting that fucking Truman French was deserving of forgiveness _or_ that she believed in his redemption after everything he had done, Derek fathomed he was ready to jump out his window. Not before he talked some sense into her, of course.

“If you’re telling me you believe—”

“I’ll _always_ believe in people, Derek, you said so yourself,” she cut him off, although her tone was as soft as usual. “But it doesn’t mean I want to be his friend. I really hope he can get better, but I don’t trust him and I never will.”

He nodded slowly, disguising the relief he felt splintering across his body. “Good.”

“He just won’t _leave_. He can’t accept the fact that I don’t want to be around him.”

“Have you specifically told him ‘ _Truman, fuck off_?’”

Casey rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips quirked up. “I can’t say _that_.”

“Because you’re too nice,” he repeated. 

“Okay, there might be some truth to that, but I haven’t been nice to him. I _haven’t_!” she exclaimed when he eyed her skeptically. “I _openly_ said I didn’t want to be his friend.”

“Well, he _does_ strike me as the mentally challenged type.”

Casey chuckled, covering her face with her hands; the sound and the gesture were so adorable he kept staring. God, he missed her so much. He could _feel_ his chest filling up with all those sappy things he despised so much, but that were now strictly connected to her and what she made him feel.

“I shouldn’t be laughing at this,” she said, her chuckle coming to a stop as she assessed the room for the first time and stood up as if she had just realized something. “Oh, sorry. You were going somewhere, I shouldn’t be—”

“No,” he hastened to say, rising up as well. 

She looked at him expectantly, but he didn’t know what else to say. Obviously, he couldn’t say he felt sorry after lying about not remembering what he had done a few nights ago. Every time he tried to close his eyes, the memory was there to haunt him; his lips so close to crashing onto hers, his hands itching to touch her and explore her skin. 

“I was... going to your dorm,” he admitted, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I saw you this morning, actually. But you were with Tom and I figured you would’ve cursed my entire generation if I’d tried to talk to you, so..."

She shuffled on her feet. “I just needed space. There’s a lot going on, Derek.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” 

Casey averted her eyes to the wall behind him, probably just as clueless about how to continue that awkward conversation. She opened her mouth and waited a few seconds before dragging her eyes back to him. Her expression was neutral, except for the subtle crease between her brows.

“Just don’t... don’t cross the line. I can live with your stupid games and your teasing, but sometimes it’s..." She shook her head, embracing herself and rubbing her palms against her arms as if to keep them warm. “There are some things you don’t do.”

Derek swallowed, suddenly hit by a feeling of disappointment. He already knew her distancing from him after what he did that night was a clear sign that she didn’t like it. It was wrong and stupid and he recognized it; but still, he couldn’t forget the way her eyes lingered on his lips or how he made her fluster with his proximity. Whether it was simply a biological reaction or not, only she could answer. But something existed between them that night and she knew it. 

“Okay.” He inhaled deeply, already regretting his words before they even left his mouth; but there were too many questions inside his mind and he was after one specific answer. “I know it’s bad timing at its best, Case,” he said, scrunching up his nose, “but where exactly do we stand right now?”

By the way her face twisted into apprehension, she comprehended his train of thoughts. He knew he had been used to rescue her from Truman just a few minutes ago, and he didn’t care; but she had told him previously that she didn’t want to be part of that lie anymore. 

Casey turned her head to the side, escaping his gaze. 

"'Cause if we're going to do this—"

"We're _not_ going to do this," she assured, letting her eyes flicker back to him.

He nodded. “Alright, I’m just pointing out the fact that _you_ just did it.”

“I know, Derek. I panicked!” Squinting her eyes, she pointed her finger at him. “This is _your_ fault."

“ _My_ fault?”

“ _You_ made this up. And now I don’t have the guts to tell him it was all a lie. Even if I did, it’d only encourage him to keep following me around. This is on you.”

"Fair, but you went along with it."

"What was I supposed to do?"

" _Not_ go along with it, possibly."

She glowered at him, sighing in exasperation. He groaned, rolling his eyes, saying placatingly, “Okay, fine, it's on me. If you want to end it, let's just end it. If you want to keep it up, I’m in. But if that’s the case, there are some things we need to discuss.”

“Like what?”

He brushed off the feeling of victory at her answer; she was quick to indulge, instead of denying it. The sane part of his mind was activating signals that told him it was wrong to seize an opportunity for his own benefit. Unethical, even. But the rush of thrill that overpowered his body was stronger than any rational thought.

“You need to get used to it."

"Used to _what_?"

"To _me_."

She blinked, instinctively steering back. "To _you_?"

Derek agreed with his head, his hands still in his pockets as he added, "To touching."

Casey took half a step back, a movement that seemed unconscious, given that her countenance didn’t show any signs of fear. He didn’t move, afraid that it would make her uncomfortable, his gaze fixed on her face. 

"You flinch when I touch you," he explained. “Or when I kiss you.”

She swallowed. "Can you blame me?"

He smirked, putting a hand to his chest. "You wound me."

The sarcasm seemed to relax her a bit, because she let her shoulders fall and rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry I can't control the way my body reacts to you."

_Your body reacted pretty well the other night._

"Aren't you supposed to be an actress?" 

Casey scoffed. "It’s not the same, Derek."

"Sure it is,” he insisted, shrugging. “You just need to practice."

She arched her eyebrows, almost offended. "Practice?"

"So you know what to wait for."

"What?" 

Derek saw the first red spots emerging on her skin near her chest, like roots that spread to her neck and finally reached her cheeks as she fully comprehended his suggestion. 

" _Practice_ , Casey."

She remained still, her arms perpendicular to her body as she stared at him, eyes slightly wide. He took the first step forward, holding her gaze until he stopped in front of her. Casey blinked and looked down to measure the distance between them. He slowly moved his hand to gently touch the inside of her wrist. She flinched.

“See?” he said, his voice unintentionally hoarse. 

“Derek.” It was barely a whisper, but he was close enough to hear it. Casey looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with a faint touch of apprehension. Then she dropped her eyes down again, fixing them on his fingers still ghosting over her left wrist. 

“What?”

Derek slid his hands up her arms slowly, at an almost excruciating pace, his fingertips barely brushing her skin as they stopped on her elbows. She shivered under his touch, lifting her head once again, and he rejoiced on the notion that he was responsible for it. He continued to run his fingers up her arms, feeling the goosebumps that appeared on her skin, seeing the exact moment her pupils flared. _Can’t control the way your body reacts, huh?_

“Is that okay?”

Casey swallowed. “Yeah,” she muttered, reaffirming it with a sway of her head when he didn’t move.

Nodding back at her, he resumed his work, letting his eyes follow the path his hands were gradually tracing. The more skin his fingers explored, the more Casey flinched, and the more his heart complained inside his chest. 

It was the realization that he had done it to many girls before, only it never mattered. Thoughtless touches, rapid friction, no feelings. This was premeditated, slow, even sweet; he never thought he had the ability to be gentle with someone. Yet here he was: the simple brushing of his skin against hers was creating a revolution inside his body. 

"You can touch me," he uttered as his hands slid up to her almost bare shoulders, poorly protected by the straps of her top. 

"It's—fine," she stuttered, although her hands flew up to his arms the moment his palms settled against the crook of her neck; his thumbs touching her jaw. 

He glanced at her to study her face, looking for signs of uncomfortableness or fright, but only finding astonishment. Her mouth was slightly open, the air coming out too fast and shaky. He had never wanted to kiss someone as much as he wanted to kiss her now. 

Releasing her eyes again, he traced her jaw with his thumbs, causing her to stiffen. "Still flinching."

"Derek," she called one more time. 

Their eyes locked again, and in the back of his mind, Derek was ready to be repelled. Blue fixed on brown, her eyes seemed to speak to him in words he longed to understand. If she didn’t want to keep going, she would tell him; she would push him away; she would slap his face. 

“Tell me to stop.”

She didn’t. Her reply was the exhaling of the air in her lungs, heavy and shaky. His stomach flipped like a little boy having his first crush in kindergarten. 

Her skin grew increasingly warmer every second he didn’t move his hands away from her neck, and he decided to slowly tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin to make their way back to her neck. She didn’t flinch this time. 

He couldn’t be hopeful. He didn’t _want_ to be hopeful. He didn’t _get_ to be hopeful. Derek knew very well that it was only an excuse to satisfy his urges, because he would never live that reality. It made him feel like an awful human being for a moment, but when Casey’s hands moved to hold his wrists and his skin started to feel just as warm as hers, it was quickly forgotten. 

With another step, he decimated the space between them, pressing his chest against hers. He leaned in, trying to search for her eyes as she dropped them to his chest, purposefully avoiding him. 

"Case," he whispered, and she sucked in her breath, looking up at him. "It's just practice." 

He could use some convincing. 

She nodded, consequently making their noses brush ever so slightly. Tilting his head to the side, his fingers hid into the hair at the nape of her neck. He felt her breath on his lips, her hands squeezing him tighter.

"Just relax." 

She loosened her grip around him, moving her hands to his chest. He let her have another second before pressing his mouth to hers, carefully. Casey stiffened for a brief moment, and he waited for her to relax to fully kiss her. 

She parted her lips, accepting him; her hands were suddenly on his face, her fingertips touching him with a tenderness he didn’t know. Her lips responded to his, warily, but committed, and he was starting to think he should have evaluated that plan a little more before putting it into action. Because he wasn’t sure he could control himself anymore. 

The sweetness in her touch, her taste, her scent... it all flooded his senses, clouded his mind, reminded him of everything that had brought him to that exact moment. Suddenly it wasn’t so surprising that he had fallen in love with her. 

Battling with his own mind, holding on to that thin line that still rooted him to reality, he wondered if she was feeling overpowered. He needed to assure her that she had control over that situation—maybe she could help him make better decisions as well. 

He stopped the kiss and dropped his hands to her waist, opening his eyes only to find hers closed shut. “You should do it,” he whispered, breathing too unsteady for a slow kiss.

Casey opened her eyes to his, swallowing. For a moment, he thought she would push him away, but the next second, she was looping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for another kiss. 

He let her set the pace, slow and sweet, and swore not to deepen it, regardless of much he wanted to. This was new to him. When he kissed other girls, it was always a mix of hunger and lust: too fast, too rough. But that slow-paced dance, with her lips caressing his as if they had an eternity to feel it, might be better than any other kiss he had ever had.

Derek couldn’t suppress a sigh into her mouth, which made her slide her hands to his face again, fingers spread over his ears, guiding him. He couldn’t take much more of that. He draped one arm around her waist and pulled her harder against him, feeling a groan forming in the back of his throat as the kiss started to progress and become more urgent. The moment his hand squeezed her waist, however, she broke the kiss. Panting, she stared at him with the only thing he didn’t want to see in her eyes: fear. 

“Too much?”

She blinked a few times, the fear slowly turning into shame. “You—yeah.” Her hands dropped to his shoulders, as if for support. “A little.”

“Sorry.”

Unfortunately—or fortunately enough, since he didn’t know what he was capable of doing after whatever had just happened,—the spell they were under was broken the moment the door was opened to reveal Scott and Tyler with their bags. Casey abruptly pulled away, averting her eyes to adjust her clothes. 

Heart stuck on his throat and mind swirling inordinately, Derek forced a smile for his roommates. Tyler’s lips quirked up in a broad smile as he approached his bed and deposited his bag on it. 

“Fucking finally,” he muttered.

Scott snorted. “Don’t mind us, if you need privacy—”

“I was just going,” Casey announced, her cheeks flaming violently, offering them a polite smile before practically running to the door. 

Derek roused himself from his trance and followed her out onto the hallway, holding her arm to turn her to him. “Where are you going?" 

"To my dorm."

He loosened his grip on her arm, wetting his lips. “We’re... cool, right?” he asked, warily. 

She opened her mouth, probably contemplating an answer, but it never came. Her eyes inspected him for a few seconds and when the tension became unbearable, she looked away.

“If that was over the line—”

“No,” she finally said, and he almost breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m just—I mean—” She crossed her arms, as if protecting herself from something. He hoped it wasn’t him. She looked up at him again. “You want people to think you’re _dating_?”

He arched his eyebrows, not sure how to respond. “Wasn’t that the purpose of this whole thing with Truman?”

“Yeah, but that was in London, Derek. We were staying there for a few days. This story wasn’t supposed to follow us into _college_.”

“I’m at risk of being killed here,” he said, crossing his arms, “but _you_ brought it to college just now.”

“I just told you I panicked!” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air.

Derek rolled his eyes, sighing. “Okay,” he began calmly, “what’s the problem here? Is it the lying?”

“Well, that too.”

“What else?”

She dragged her eyes to the wall on her side, crossing her arms again. 

“The thought of being around me is _that_ repulsive?” he asked playfully. “I thought you said I was hot.”

“Derek,” she said, and although her expression denoted impatience, her voice sounded soft, “you’re popular here. People know you. If we do this, _everyone_ will know you’re dating me.”

He shrugged. “So?”

She blinked, steering back in surprise. “So you won’t be _single_ anymore,” she explained, as if it should be obvious. 

He wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that she was more concerned about his impossibility to date other girls while being in a fake relationship with her than he was. It almost made him smile.

“I’m familiar with the concept of dating, Casey.”

She let her eyes drop to his chest for a moment, and the silence was nearly suffocating as he waited for her verdict. He was fully aware of the consequences of that dangerous game; he was allowing himself to live a lie in order to satisfy desires that could never be satisfied otherwise. It wasn’t only wrong to almost use her, but also _to be_ used. He was foolishly and willingly standing in the front line, setting himself as a target; but if he was to end up brokenhearted anyway, at least he could enjoy the peace before the massacre.

She looked up at him. “Okay." 

***

“Love is a good look good on you, D.”

Derek squinted his eyes at Pete, who was putting on a shirt across from him in the locker room. The other flashed him an amused smile, throwing his wet towel on the bench that sat between them. He wondered if his friend had noticed what _he_ had been noticing and trying to hide; lately, he caught himself smiling more often than usual and even dismissing Jay’s—a teammate placed on Earth to fuck with his life—attempts to get him riled up on the rink.

It had been only a couple of days, but every time he as much as heard Casey’s name, his lips would twitch like they had a life of their own. It was pathetic. Shameful. Embarrassing. But it was even worse when she was around; he had never felt so devoid of control, but equally elated. Granted he could hide it with a smirk and Casey would roll her eyes at him thinking he was only acting, but that pleasant twinge of excitement in his chest was very real. 

At first, he thought he shouldn’t tell anyone about their relationship, even though he could barely keep himself from telling anyone who would pass him by around college—again, _pathetic_ —but trying to prevent an unnecessary commotion if his friends—especially Will and Pete—found out for themselves, he told Pete first.

And now he wouldn’t stop pestering him about it every chance he got. 

“You’re even playing well!” Harry mocked, leaning his back against his locker by Pete’s side.

“Fuck you,” Derek retaliated, although a smile spread on his lips involuntarily. He put on his body spray and tossed it in his bag. 

“It’s true, though,” Pete insisted, slamming his locker door shut. “You’re playing even better. Don’t dismiss the influences of love,” he said, forcing a deep voice with a theatrical interpretation. “Jokes aside, I’m stoked for you guys. Took you long enough.”

Derek sighed, hanging the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Can you not say that kind of stuff? At least not around Casey?”

Pete chuckled. “Aww, you don’t want her to know you’ve been pining over her all this time?”

 _Pretty much_.

“I’m trying to be polite here, don’t make me slam your head against your locker.”

Pete and Harry laughed in unison, the first holding a hand flat to his chest. “Threat successfully received. I won’t comment on you chicken shit. Is that better?”

Derek gave him a fake smile and showed him his middle finger, turning around to leave the locker room. Logan, one of his teammates, motioned for him to wait and approached him with a piece of paper in his hand. 

“What’s that?” Derek asked, but when Logan flipped the thin rectangle between his fingers, he noticed it was a ticket. “Is that the pass for the festival?”

“Yeah, it turns out I can’t make it and Kyra doesn’t want to go without me,” he explained, extending the ticket to Derek. “I thought you might want one, since you probably want to take your girlfriend now,” he added with a smile. 

Derek grabbed the ticket and inspected it for a moment. He and his friends had bought tickets for a music festival in Ottawa at least five months ago; he even tried to coax Casey into going along, but she was resolute on not going. He wasn’t sure she would change her mind simply because they were supposedly dating—she was too stubborn.

“Yeah... but I don’t know if I have the money now.”

Logan shook his head. “Just pay me half whenever you can,” he said. “I made the same deal with Truman.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow at him. “ _Truman_?”

“Yeah, it’s this guy I met in one of my classes, nice dude,” he said. Derek bit his tongue to keep from cursing aloud. “I had the tickets with me and he asked me about it, so I sold one to him.”

“Truman _French_?”

“Yeah! Do you know him?”

Derek nodded; if he kept applying pressure on his tongue, he would soon taste blood. Why was Truman invariably meddling in their lives, even when unaware of the fact? Although Derek didn’t rule out the possibility of him stalking and befriending his friends. 

“What a small world,” Logan mentioned. “But that’s cool, he won't feel out of place.”

“Cool.”

“Just send me Casey’s info so I can put the pass under her name.” Logan patted Derek’s back twice. “I hope you guys have fun.”

Derek feigned a friendly smile and turned to finally leave, placing the ticket inside the pocket of his jeans. He hated the thought of being incapable of doing something, but he wasn’t sure he could convince Casey to go with him—especially if Truman was hopping along.

But he had been away from her for hours and that still pathetic urge to find her in her dorm, which could be overlooked and perceived as an obligation to keep the act, made him trade his normal route for the one he knew so well. 

He sighed in frustration when Sarah opened the door for him.

"Oh, hey, it's you!” she exclaimed in obvious discontentment. “Any chance you’ll stop coming by every day?"

Derek grinned at her. "No, but it’s nice that you have hope."

She rolled her eyes. “Casey’s not here.”

He frowned. "Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “I don’t keep tabs on her. I thought she was with you.”

“No, I was at practice. I’ll just... try the library, she's probably there.”

He took a step back, but Sarah stopped him with a firm hand around his arm. He looked down at her, surprised by her strength; she was shorter than Casey, but oddly intimidating. It wasn’t just the leather pants, the boots or the heavy eyeliner under her green eyes, but the feral vibes that surrounded her. Anyone who saw her next to Casey wouldn’t imagine they could be friends. 

“Excuse me?” He arched his eyebrows, pointing at her hand.

"Listen to me, you piece of shit," she began menacingly, moving her hand to wrap it around the fabric of his shirt near his chest. "I couldn’t tell you this before because she was always around. But I don’t trust you one bit. You’re dating her now, so think twice before doing anything, because if you break her heart, I'll break your dick."

Derek grinned, amused by her tactics of intimidation. "How is that going to work exactly?"

She released his shirt and gave a few playful slaps on his cheek. "Funny."

"Thanks. I didn't know you were so protective of Casey," he mentioned, straightening his shirt.

"Well, now you do."

"Why are you assuming I'm going to break her heart anyway?"

"You hit on Ivy and you tried to hit on me as well, both occasions in front of Casey."

He rolled his eyes, casually leaning a hand on the wall. "Okay, that was a long time ago. And I was single."

Sarah narrowed her eyes at him, but quickly sighed in defeat. Her expression looked somewhat softer—or as soft as she could manage. "Look, I’m trying to be positive here because I see the way you look at her. I _know_ you like her, but that’s not enough if you can’t commit. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt."

"Okay," he said tersely, caught off guard. It sounded more serious than anything he had ever said to Sarah, and she must have thought the same, because she blinked in surprise at his answer.

“God, I’m out for _one hour_ and you’re already trying to kill each other!”

Derek turned to see Casey walking towards them. He shifted in his place, welcoming the uneasiness that emerged from inside. His only hope was that Casey hadn’t heard their conversation, because he _definitely_ didn’t need her to believe that he liked her. 

Sarah let go of his shirt and he promptly smoothed it down with his hand. 

“What happened?” Casey asked as she stopped next to Derek. 

“What do you mean?” Sarah retorted sarcastically. “I was just demonstrating my affection for your boyfriend.”

“Lovely woman,” Derek jeered, which made Sarah roll her eyes and look meaningfully at him before entering her dorm, leaving the door ajar. He turned to Casey, who was now placing her backpack on the floor next to her. “Do you ever stop studying?”

She snapped her head up, beaming at him, which eventually made him smile as well. “I was working on a project.”

“Of course you were.” He rolled his eyes. “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

He looked at the door for a second and reached for the doorknob to close it, moving to casually lean his back against the wall. “Remember that music festival I invited you to a few months ago?”

Casey nodded quietly, crossing her arms. 

“Logan and his girlfriend were going too. You know, Kyra.”

“Yeah.”

“But they won’t be able to make it.”

Casey stared at him, evidently waiting for him to continue. “Derek, I’m failing to see the point here.”

“The point is you’re my girlfriend,” he said, secretly loving the way the sentence felt slipping out of his mouth. “And Logan offered me one of his tickets.” He grabbed the ticket from his pocket and handed it to her.

She was shaking her head before her fingers snatched it from his hand. “Forget it.”

“Casey.”

“No.”

“Okay, hear me out,” he proposed, moving away from the wall to approach her and speak in hushed tones. “Everyone thinks we’ve just started dating. It’s weird if I go on a road trip without you. Plus, your fucking ex is going.”

Her eyes widened instantly. “ _Truman_? How— _why_?”

“I have a theory that he’s trying to make one of us break and eventually kill him,” he said, rolling his eyes. “It’s just one weekend. We have tickets for Saturday. You can even go out on Sunday and explore the city or go do whatever people do when they’re into boring stuff.”

Casey blinked, probably still shocked to know that Truman was, once again, interfering with their lives and plans. But the more Derek thought about the matter, the more he became convinced that it wasn’t so bad. If Truman was going, he would have one more reason to stay close to Casey.

He felt instantly terrible at the thought; despite wishing nothing more than to kiss her again, it didn’t have to be under such circumstances. Casey probably didn’t want to see her ass of an ex-boyfriend for an entire weekend—and he would gladly reject the opportunity as well. 

“Derek,” she began threateningly, “I’m _not_ spending the night in a tent somewhere with _no_ bathroom and I’m _not_ going to a place packed with sweaty... devious... drunk people with absolutely _no_ respect for anyone else.”

He groaned. “First of all, there’s no tent. We’re not spending three days there, we have reservations at a hotel packed with everything the _princess_ needs.”

She gasped. “Don’t call me ‘ _princess_ ’!”

“Well, you’re afraid of... what was that again? Sweaty, devious and drunk people. So fussy,” he added with a sway of his head and a smirk, “ _Princess._ ”

Casey clenched her jaw, taking a step forward to smack his chest with her hand. His smirk grew even bigger; there was nothing he couldn’t fix with a challenge. 

“ _Stop_ calling me that!”

“Well, you have to prove me wrong first.” He reached for her hand, still pressed against his chest, and covered it with his. By the way she startled and dropped her eyes to the movement, he figured she hadn’t even realized it was still there. “You can’t handle two days?”

She pulled her hand from under his and crossed her arms. “Fine,” she complied bitterly, glowering at him and his victory smile. “And wipe that smile off your face.”

“I just love how affectionate you are,” he sneered, stealing the ticket from her hands and leaning closer to carefully put them inside the front pocket of her jeans. He could hear her holding her breath and it sounded like another victory to him. “Don’t lose it.”

When he pulled away, she was glaring at him, but her blush rendered her attempt at intimidation ineffectual. It was almost unfair how easily he could get her flustered. “I wasn’t thinking about it until _now_.”

“Well, I trust you, babe.” He smirked, leaning in to press a lingering kiss on her cheek and turning around to leave without checking her reaction. 

He was absolutely sure she was blushing. 

***

Pete closed the trunk with a loud noise, looking around as if to ascertain that everyone was present. They had been waiting in the parking lot with at least half of their teammates, Casey, Will and Stephanie. Derek would have suggested that they parted without Tom, Julie and Truman—no one would miss them anyway—but they could already be seen in the distance, walking towards them. 

Derek glanced at Casey, who was talking to Stephanie next to Harry’s car. Despite having complained about that trip for days, she seemed excited. He couldn’t deny that he was, too; he knew Casey was simply agreeing with that trip for the sake of their ruse, but sometimes he liked to pretend it was real. He had been doing it too frequently and it was starting to mess with his head.

It wasn’t like their relationship had changed drastically. They still hung out in their dorms or went out when she allowed herself a break from studying, but he couldn’t pretend he didn’t feel his heart nearly stopping when she hesitantly snuggled closer to him whenever their roommates arrived or how she intertwined their fingers so naturally when they walked side by side. _She_ made it feel real. 

The only reason he had been able to stop himself from kissing her again after that day inside his dorm was the notion that it was only permitted in front of other people. She had established rules—of course—and written them down in cursive letters on a piece of paper she made him keep in his drawer. He reckoned the rules were a way for her to be in control and guarantee that he wouldn’t repeat whatever happened in his room in London a few days ago. 

Harry whistled to capture Derek’s and Pete’s attention, motioning for them to help place more bags on his trunk. They complied, quickly finishing the job to wait for the new arrangements of carpooling to be made.

Julie approached him from the side while Harry gave a suggestion to the group. 

“We could ride together,” she said, placing one hand around his bicep. 

Derek sighed, gently taking her hand off him. “Pete’s car is already full, so...”

Julie’s smile faltered, but she didn’t lose her composure. Derek looked to the side instinctively, finding Casey leaning her back against the driver’s door of Harry’s car, paying attention to what Ian, another teammate, was now saying.

“Oh, you want to go with your _girlfriend_?” To his surprise, Julie smiled. "You and I both know this won't last very long."

"Oh, do we?"

She tilted her head to the side, her eyes scanning his face like she was trying to memorize it. "I don't even know why you'd date her in the first place. She's _so_ not your type." 

Annoyed at her petulance, he mocked, "Pray tell, what’s my type?"

"Certainly not boring and so... bland-looking."

“If that's what you think, why do you feel so threatened by her?"

Julie gasped. "I don't feel threatened!"

"I think you do."

"Then you're wrong."

"I'm never wrong," he affirmed, putting on a smirk. “I think you know she’s fucking hot,” he added with a wink, stepping away from her incredulous face to move closer to Casey. He used to love how obsessed girls were with him during high school, it fed his ego; but Julie reinvented the concept. 

“You don’t need to defend me, you know?” Casey commented without taking her eyes off Ian. Derek noticed her cheeks had been tinged a lovely shade of pink. “It’s not on the rules.”

He leaned against the car by her side, purposefully flexing his knees a bit to make their arms touch. He felt her tensing up for a moment. “I don’t need rules to say what I think now, do I?”

For someone who couldn’t compliment her clothes just weeks before, he had surely lost all inhibition. But it was worth it to see her touching her cheek with the back of her hand in a failed attempt to cool them down.

He decided to spare her as she walked towards Pete’s car, accommodating herself in the middle seat of his backseat. Derek and Stephanie found their seats on each side of her and Will filled the last space next to Pete, who was driving. Derek would never pass the opportunity to ride shotgun, but when he stretched his arm over Casey’s shoulders and she leaned into him, he thought it was a good deal. 

The long hours passed like a blur amidst Will’s antics provoking laughter and Casey’s warm hand comfortably resting against his thigh. He wasn’t sure she was aware of it, but he certainly wouldn’t point it out. It was extremely distracting, but oddly soothing. Which was why he nearly sighed in frustration when she moved away from him the second they arrived at the hotel. 

As they grabbed their bags and made their way into the place, Derek noticed only Harry, Julie and three of his teammates had arrived. He approached the counter and addressed the receptionist, a scrawny young man, to check-in. The man handed him the key to his room, but before he could turn around, Casey appeared by his side.

“Excuse me,” she said, grabbing the edges of the counter and offering a friendly smile to the receptionist, “there must be a mistake. We need _two_ rooms.”

The receptionist, whose tag read the name Ethan, pressed his mouth in a contrite smile. “I’m sorry, miss, but there’s only one reservation under this name.”

“Probably because I only _made_ one,” Derek said in obviousness, meeting Casey’s wide eyes. Of course she would object to sharing a room with him. Granted he probably should have told her in advance, but it was an evident presumption, since they were supposed to be dating.

“What do you mean you only made one?”

“I mean exactly that.”

Her mouth fell open as she stared at him in disbelief; she turned eagerly to Ethan, who steered back with her sudden movement. 

“That’s okay, I can pay for another room.”

“Oh. We have no other rooms available, miss,” he disclosed. Derek didn’t even bother to hide his smirk when she realized there was no other alternative. “With the festival, we’re all booked up.”

Derek gently patted the counter twice as he smiled at Ethan and grabbed Casey’s arm to drag her away from prying eyes. He was positive no one had heard her, but he would rather not cause a scene in a public place.

“ _Why_ didn’t you tell me?” she asked sharply in a hushed tone. 

“I thought it was obvious.”

“Why would it be obvious? Just because we’re dating it doesn’t mean we’re... sleeping together! I don’t want people to think that we’re...” She groaned frustratingly, running one hand through her hair. 

Derek smirked. “ _You’re_ the only one thinking that.”

“Der- _ek_!”

He sighed. “Casey, it’s just one night. Okay? If you want me to announce to everyone that we’re not having sex, I will, just _please_ don’t throw a fit right now.”

She gasped incredulously as a blush began to bloom up her neck. He wondered which part of his speech had fretted her more.

“Trouble in paradise?” Julie chimed in, and Derek had to take a deep breath before turning to the blonde that smiled cunningly at the both of them. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. It’s too soon for that.”

“No, but thank you for the concern,” Derek said sarcastically, grinning at her. 

He reached for Casey’s hand and walked back to the reception, where they had left their bags. They made their way to the elevator accompanied by Stephanie and Julie. Derek placed their bags on the floor between his legs and leaned against the metallic wall, vehemently avoiding eye contact with Julie. Maybe Truman wouldn’t be his biggest hindrance, after all. 

The silence was uncomfortable, but it was over as soon as the girls stepped out into their floor and the doors closed again. Derek glanced at Casey, who had her arms crossed and her expression twisted into annoyance. He sighed deeply, rolling his eyes, but didn’t say a word. If she wanted to whine and pout like a child, he wouldn’t entertain her. It wasn’t like they had never shared a bed before—granted Marti had been there the first time, but he _did_ wake up with her in his arms. He wouldn’t object to doing it again. 

He tried his best not to think about sleeping with her, but it was proven impossible when there was a giant double bed waiting for them as he opened the door of their room. The place wasn’t big, but it was neat and cozy; there was a small TV on the wall opposite to the bed, a tiny closet on the right and a window with a nice view of the city skyline.

Derek closed the door, feeling the weirdness of having them alone in a hotel room, away from everyone else. It was like the world outside suddenly ceased to exist. He put the bags on one side of the bed, throwing himself on the vacant space and joining his hands under his head. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, but had his peaceful moment interrupted by Casey’s wailing.

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no,” she lamented. “Shit.”

He opened his eyes and propped himself up with his elbows, watching her stare at her opened bag with wide eyes. A strong scent of vanilla reached his nostrils and he scrunched up his nose.

“What?”

“Ivy!”

“No, _Derek_ ,” he mocked.

He raised his eyebrows when she directed her murdering gaze at him. “Ivy asked to borrow my perfume before I left. I told her to put it inside my bag after she put it on, but she put it in the wrong one, with my clothes—”

“What’s the point of this story, Casey?” he urged impatiently.

“It spilled all over my clothes, Derek!” she practically yelled, slamming her hand against her bag. 

He burst out in laughter, letting his body fall back on the bed. 

“It’s not funny!”

“It is a little.”

She groaned, and when he felt the mattress shifting, he turned his head to see her sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to him. “What am I going to do? Do they even have laundry service here?”

“Doubt it,” he said dismissively, looking up to the ceiling. “Oof.” His hands grabbed the humid pair of jeans she had abruptly tossed at his face and tossed them back at her. He liked the smell of vanilla, but the odor was so strong it made him nauseated. “ _Ow?_ _Ivy_ did this, not me.”

“Well, you’re not helping,” she barked, narrowing her eyes at him. 

He rolled his eyes. "Call reception and ask Scrawny Guy if they have fucking laundry service, Casey."

She sighed, rubbing her palms across her face. “Just my luck,” she quipped, scooting closer to the headboard to reach for the phone on the bedside table. “It wasn't enough being stuck in a room with you."

"Most girls would kill for the opportunity."

She let out a derisive scoff as she dialed the reception number. "I don't see the appeal."

"Well, you haven't seen me in action."

He could practically feel every single muscle in her body tensing up the moment she gasped. She lowered the phone and craned her neck to glower at him. He smirked and she picked up one of the pillows on the bed to hit his stomach with it, but his reflexes were quicker and he stole it from her hands with a mocking laugh. 

“Pig!” she yelled, smacking his arm with her hand. 

He winked at her, clutching the pillow, and she groaned before resuming her phone call. Apparently, the hotel did offer laundry services, but only during the morning on weekends, and it was nearly 6 p.m. Casey begged, but there was nothing Scrawny Guy could do. 

“What am I going to wear now?” she mused aloud, melancholically. Her shoulders slumped as she looked down at her clothes. “And what am I going to wear later? I can’t sleep in jeans!”

“I mean, you don’t _need_ to sleep with clothes on,” he mentioned, feeling his lips twitching on their own with another grin. “It’s actually liberating. You should try it. I won’t look.”

As predicted, Casey turned to him again with her cheeks as red as the top she was wearing; he couldn’t help a laugh and a surprised sound as she moved to the center of the bed on her knees, picked up the pillow he had been holding and used it to hit him repeatedly over his body. Holding up his fists to defend himself, he couldn’t even hear her insults over his own laughter. Their fights hadn’t been physical for a long time; he had missed it.

Derek managed to reach out and wrap his fingers around her forearms, pulling her in a sudden movement that caused her to let go of the pillow and fall over his chest, stopping her rant immediately. Her face was only centimeters apart from his, mouth slightly open and cheeks redder than what he thought possible. 

He could feel her chest rising and dropping against his, her heavy breathing ghosting over his lips and inducing an unmitigated urge to flip her around and pin her against the bed; he could easily do it, but her list of rules was seared into his brain and he didn’t want to ruin the little he had been able to conquer with his selfish needs. 

He slowly loosened his fingers around her arms, eyes insistent on hers, but she didn’t move. The tips of her hair were tickling his skin, reminding him that she was once again choosing to stay. _Why did she keep choosing to stay?_ For a moment he hoped she could see the question behind his eyes, but when the intensity of that moment combined with the obvious tension became almost insufferable, his gaze dropped to her lips.

“Derek,” she called, but it sounded like a whisper.

He looked up at her again, rehearsing a smirk close enough to his usual one. He wouldn’t mind if she stopped rationalizing everything for a second and simply acted on her impulses. He could accept the fact that she didn’t like him the way he liked her, but she _was_ attracted to him. It was a simple addition: attraction plus attraction equal making out. 

“I was just kidding, Case. Just borrow something from Steph, I don’t know.”

Casey blinked as though his words had served as a spell to jolt her out of another dimension. “Right.” She used her hands on his chest to prop herself up and practically jump out of the bed, quickly fixing her clothes and her hair. “Stephanie.”

With his brain partially addled, it took Derek a few seconds to compose himself and sit up, raking his fingers through his hair as Casey closed her bag. She moved to place it on the floor, next to the closet, and crouched down to look for something in one of its compartments. 

“Hey,” he called her softly.

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

The muscles on her back tightened. “Yeah. Why?”

“I know you didn’t want to be here, Casey. Least of all with Truman.”

She rose to her feet, finally turning to him. He noticed she had grabbed her phone. 

“Yeah,” she said, looking down at her phone to type something. “But you’re here. I’ll go find Stephanie.”

She was gone before he could completely process her sentence. Derek liked to think that nothing Casey said could be able to leave him speechless, he knew her too well to anticipate her words; but it wasn’t the first time she left him staring at a wall completely flummoxed. 

A wave of warmth made his way through his body, concentrating in his chest like the beginning of a blazing fire. But as the feeling intensified, one of his intrusive thoughts sneaked into his mind and overshadowed any other possible thought. Whatever he and Casey had, he had been able to build it from scratch; he picked up the pieces under the debris of their years of disagreements and managed to bring that little shelter of familiarity and occasional bickering to life. So what could stop him from resuming the work?

Math wasn’t an exact science for intangible matters; sometimes attraction plus attraction resulted in something bigger than a moment of fun. Sometimes it ended in love.

For a moment, he ignored all his fears and doubts; for a moment, he thought himself capable of being someone she could choose willingly, without the excuse of a fake relationship; for a moment, he thought himself good. He laid down on the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling as wondered if he could make her fall in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm a sucker for the fake dating trope and the 'let's just practice making out so it looks natural, but I also secretly love you' is the best thing ever created, so I had to add it. Also, sharing beds. I guess this is an apology that's more of an excuse.
> 
> As for the next chapters, I'm still working on them, so it might take me a few days to post the next one. But not as long as this one took me, I promise.
> 
> (And to everyone that left comments in the previous chapter, thank you SO much ❤️❤️)  
> Have a lovely day!


	9. Of Crowns and Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week I realized I can't be trusted, so I'll just stop promising updates. So sorry about it, I'll try to be better. I just had to rewrite at least half of this chapter, but now it's here! 🙈 Enjoy!

_“We are surrounded by all of these lies_

_And people that talk too much_

_You got that kind of look in your eyes_

_As if no one knows anything but us_

_Should this be the last thing I see_

_I want you to know it's enough for me_

_'Cause all that you are is all that I'll ever need”_

_(Tenerife Sea - Ed Sheeran)_

Casey 

Her heart was nearly jumping out of her chest when she left the hotel room. She inhaled oxygen as if she had been deprived of air for too long, and let it out in a shaky breath. 

Despite being close to her emotional side, she used to think of herself as someone who rationalized everything before making a decision. Perhaps it was a lapse, or one of those rare—not _so_ rare—occasions in which her mind was clouded by his presence, but she relied solely on her emotions when she agreed to that plan.

On second thought, it was becoming clearer and clearer that the only common thread in her foolish and rushed decisions was Derek. She felt genuinely terrified when, upon his proposal of practicing kissing, her body practically begged to be touched by his hands. When she closed her eyes, she could still feel his fingers running up her arms, the goosebumps returning with every memory, his taste ingrained in her lips. She had shamefully flinched on purpose under his touch numerous times after that day just to see if he would suggest another practice.

_He never did._

And as the days went by and she committed to the role of his girlfriend, she couldn’t help but cringe at her own stupidity. Because she could feel herself getting trapped inside the narrative Derek had created; each time he held her hand in public or kissed her on her forehead before leaving for hockey practice, or when he smiled at her with no hints of mockery and his fingers played with her hair absentmindedly when they were chatting at the cafe. It always felt real. _Too_ real. 

It wasn’t healthy, yet it was addictive. She sought him out and enjoyed the feeling of bliss inside her chest he inflicted on her, like a drug she couldn't quit. It was becoming more difficult to hide what she felt; he lured her in unknowingly, to the point where she couldn’t deny the inevitable attraction between them. And it wasn’t just her, he felt it too.

Only he was Derek, and Derek was only after his own satisfaction. More often than not, she cogitated giving in and savoring what the universe was giving her. They _could_ kiss, after all; that was what everyone else would expect of a supposed couple. But indulging would only remind her that while he was looking for a moment of distraction and fun, she was perilously close to diving into real feelings.

She looked back at the closed door, wondering if even ruled by different kinds of emotions, he was as rattled as her after what had happened inside that room; after being so close to her; after staring blatantly at her lips making her heart flutter inside her chest. It seemed that incorporating the role of a loving boyfriend had induced him to act even flirtier and bolder than before. She was certain it was another one of his challenges; he wanted to push her to her limits, learn her breaking point as she yielded and consented to his idea of entertainment. 

Casey swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut before finally walking to the elevator. Whenever she overthought Derek’s actions, she spiraled. And right now, she needed to be practical. She messaged Stephanie for her room number and found it quickly, thankful for the fact that Julie wasn’t there.

“She forgot to bring her body glitter and apparently it’s a necessity,” Stephanie explained, rolling her eyes as she chuckled. “So she went out to buy it. Do you need anything?”

Casey flashed her a demure smile. “Yeah, actually. I know we don’t know each other that well, but do you have a change of clothes you could lend me for the festival?”

Stephanie smiled and waved her hand in the air. “Of course! I brought a couple of outfits just in case, you never know.” She motioned for Casey to sit on one of the single beds of the room and walked to the closet. “But what happened?”

“Well, my clothes smell like my entire bottle of perfume right now.”

“Oh, shit.” She picked a few clothes from the closet to place them on the bed next to Casey. “It happened to me once, but with my bottle of shampoo.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have PJs, would you?” Casey tried.

Stephanie shook her head. ”Sorry, I only brought one. Doesn’t Derek have a shirt you can wear, though?” she suggested. 

Casey turned to her, almost expecting her to be joking, but there was no sign of humor in her expression or voice. A blush crept up on her neck and Stephanie instantly noticed it, chuckling lightly.

“Wait a sec,” she said, her eyes widening in curiosity as she placed one hand in Casey’s leg, “is this the first time you guys share a room?” As she watched Casey’s cheeks burn even more, Stephanie smiled affectionately. “Oh, my God.”

“What?” Casey casually touched her cheeks with the back of her hands, feeling the hotness of her skin.

“Well, Julie was telling me how you guys were supposedly fighting in the lobby," Stephanie said, rolling her eyes. "About sharing the room. But now it makes sense." She shook her head, stunned. "It’s just... you guys have been dating for a few weeks now. Don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I could care less about how long it takes people to have sex, but Derek is... well, _Derek._ ”

Casey had already reached the peak of her embarrassment, so she indulged. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that if he’s willing to wait, he must be crazy about you.” She retrieved her hand from Casey’s leg and grabbed one of the tops she had picked out from the closet to smooth its fabric down. “Which I kind of already knew, but it’s still adorable.” 

Casey let out a nervous chuckle and looked at the top she had in her hands, hoping it would drive Stephanie’s attention back to the purpose of her visit. She wasn’t ready to deal with comments about Derek being crazy about her when the only reason they hadn’t had sex was that they weren’t _actually_ dating. Although she wasn't sure Derek wouldn't give it a chance if _she_ allowed it to happen. Sensing her mind was beginning to step into the dangerous territory of daydreaming and her cheeks were starting to burn, she shook her head. 

“Seriously,” Stephanie continued, and Casey almost groaned, “I’ve never seen him act the way he acts around you. It’s like you guys are so comfortable with each other, you know? That’s really cute.” She lifted her head to meet Casey’s eyes and smiled. 

“Um... thank you.”

“You really like him, don’t you?”

Casey nibbled on her bottom lip, wondering if her skin could get any hotter than it felt. Her lips moved on their own when she confessed, “Yeah.”

Stephanie smiled. “Well, there’s nothing to worry about, then. Remember, you don’t need to do _anything_ tonight. Just enjoy it. Trust me, falling asleep next to the person you love is the best feeling in the world,” she affirmed with a determination that suggested she had experienced it. “But anyway, we don’t want Julie to get here and throw a fit, so let’s pick something out for you.”

Casey sighed quietly in relief and sorted through Stephanie's clothes. She opted for a cropped white blouse with a plunging neckline and blouson sleeves; the see-through fabric should be worn over another white top and combined with high waisted denim shorts. It didn’t cover as much skin as Casey would have wanted, but given the options, it was the closest to her style. 

Will messaged the group chat they had created prior to the trip suggesting that they left for the festival in an hour in time to eat something and go through security. Casey thanked Stephanie and went back to her room with her clothes in her hands and determined to face Derek again. 

He was taking a shower when she entered; she noticed he had left the bathroom door ajar and silently prayed for guidance from above as she walked past it with her eyes fixed ahead, on the bed. Since she had already taken a shower beforehand, she decided to work on her makeup; just a bit of mascara, blue eyeshadow and eyeliner. Her eyes found her array of lipsticks and focused on the lovely shade of pink that tasted like strawberry. _Of course_ she wouldn’t kiss him tonight— _right_? She sighed longingly at the thought as her fingers grabbed the lipstick and applied the color to her lips.

“Got the clothes?”

She turned to see Derek standing by the bathroom door wearing only a pair of ripped jeans while he dried off his hair with a white towel. Her eyes slipped to his torso involuntarily and she had to bite back a curse; how was she supposed to survive an entire night with him? Realizing that she was staring, she took a deep breath to regain composure and stood up to grab Stephanie’s clothes.

“Yeah. Will texted the group, we’re leaving in an hour,” she warned, swerving around him to get to the bathroom while avoiding eye contact at all costs. She heard him chuckling before she closed the door. 

Casey took another deep breath and concentrated on changing her clothes. Fortunately, they fit perfectly. The cropped still showed too much of her stomach and back, but she reckoned that was what people usually wore to festivals. And she did look pretty—the thought made her smile at herself.

_You can do this_.

But she wasn’t so certain anymore when she stepped out of the bathroom and received Derek’s full attention from his spot near the wall next to the bed. His eyes drank her in in poorly disguised amazement and she pretended not to notice it as she moved to hang her discarded clothes in the closet, suddenly bashful.

When she whirled around again, Derek quickly diverted his eyes to his phone and typed something. “You ready?”

“Yeah. We can go if you want.”

He nodded, shutting his phone off to place it in his pocket. “Pete’s meeting us at the entrance,” he said. 

Casey caught a whiff of his body spray as he walked past her to reach the door; he held it open and motioned with his chin for her to leave the room. The concept of chivalry was definitely unknown to Derek, even criticized by him, but she wouldn’t point it out when he was making a real effort.

She felt her eyebrows furrowing, but made her way out of the room and waited for him to close the door. Derek instantly grabbed her hand and she intertwined her fingers automatically, like it was the natural course of the universe. It didn’t even dawn on her that they had no reason to touch up until the elevator doors opened to the lobby, where almost all their friends were waiting. 

He leaned into her side as they walked towards Pete and Will, next to the reception. “You look beautiful,” he said as though it was an afterthought, voice oddly soft. 

Casey could have tugged at his hand and stopped walking to thank him or ask him why he was acting so strangely—she frankly didn’t know which alternative to opt for—but she didn’t trust herself to use her voice. Her self-esteem had always been moderately high, with a few unavoidable moments of self-doubt and insecurity, but she knew she was beautiful. However, she didn't know _Derek_ thought so too—not that it mattered. _But maybe it did?_

Everything was confusing; in the span of three hours, he had complimented her twice, which was certainly uncharacteristic of him. And no matter how much her feminist self wished to ignore his opinions about her, they still made her heart melt.

"The couple of the year," Pete greeted cheerfully when they approached him and Will. "Excited for tonight?"

Excited wasn't quite the word. She was scared. Whatever game Derek was playing, she was bound to lose.

***

Casey’s first impression of that place was bad. The someone-should-get-this-banned kind of bad. After a long half an hour waiting to go through security and another twenty-five minutes in line to buy greasy food and a couple of overpriced beers, she was horrified to find hundreds of people elbowing their way through the throng, a few passing out or vomiting and unabashed displays of affection. Everything smelled like sweat, alcohol and weed.

But she quickly found out that Emily was right when she told her once that any place seemed infinitely better with the right people; granted she was trying to convince Casey to accompany her to her distant aunt's birthday party where she didn't know anyone, but there was some truth to her speech. Will's cheerfulness was so contagious she saw Julie laughing genuinely for the first time when they gathered around in a circle on the grass next to the area reserved for tents; Pete's and Harry's attempts to roast each other in slurred speeches as they walked to the nearest stage made her even forget that Truman was only a few steps behind her; a slightly drunk Stephanie stole Julie's body glitter and shared it with Casey—and Will, who proceeded to yell at anyone who walked past him that he was a vampire.

And then there was Derek. Despite having planned that night with his friends months ago, he didn't leave her side. She wanted to feel bad, after all, she was monopolizing his time even if it was _his_ choice, but his touches and furtive looks rendered her attempt to be selfless impossible—as well as her necessity to remind herself that they weren't really dating. Derek was definitely striving to look the part, and at some point, she decided to follow his example and simply live in the moment.

After that, as she sipped on beer and grew accustomed to the loud music that blasted from the stage, she barely acknowledged the few couples nearly grinding each other or the disrespectful people inadvertently pushing her while she gradually and carelessly danced to the beat of the sound in the middle of the crowd. It felt oddly liberating to close her eyes and let her body sway to the music, head slightly foggy from the beers she had taken. 

It didn’t seem so bad anymore.

The colorful lights coming from the stage were nearly blinding, and under the effect of alcohol, they looked like a product of a ludic dream. She was vaguely aware of her friends screaming at the top of their lungs to the lyrics she didn’t know; in front of her, Will and Pete were kissing each other as if the world was about to end and she allowed herself to laugh. 

Someone grabbed her wrist and she turned around in time to see Derek pulling her to him, a smirk on his lips. She put one hand in his chest to prevent her from colliding against him and tilted her chin up, an easy smile creeping upon her own lips.

He drew his mouth closer to her ear. “Are you okay?”

Casey nodded, leaning into his cheek involuntarily and sliding her hands up his chest to fold them behind his neck. “Derek... I think I’m drunk.”

He chuckled against the crook of her neck, making her shudder. “Yeah, you should drink some water now.”

She nodded again, and he pulled away to grab her hand and drag her away from the crowd. Her steps weren’t precise, but she was still in possession of her control as she made her way to the empty patch of ground away from the stage. The air fell instantly clearer and she inhaled it slowly into her lungs. Her feet hurt from all the walking from stage to stage all night and her lower back begged for her to find a seat. 

“I need to pee,” she announced, for some reason. 

Her spontaneity made Derek laugh and she wondered how he managed to look sober when he had drunk at least double the beers she had. “You’ll have to wait in line, can you do that?” he asked as he walked past the food stalls to reach the portable toilets. 

“I think I’m capable, Derek,” she quipped, rolling her eyes. 

“Noted. Wasted Casey is extra annoying,” he teased, positioning her behind a short woman who was waiting in line. He held Casey at arm's-length to force her to look at him. “I’ll go get you some water and be right back, okay?” 

Split between finding his concern endearing and irritating, she simply nodded and watched as he went back to the food stalls, just a couple of meters away from the toilets. Casey peeked over the shoulder of the woman standing in front of her, counting three people. She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned her head to the side to see Truman towering over her. He inspected her face intently and she shrugged his hand off of her.

“I saw you leaving, just wanted to check up on you,” he said as he assessed her closely from head to toe. “Is everything okay?”

Casey nodded, crossing her arms over her bare torso, feeling suddenly exposed. “Fine.”

“We can leave if you want. I can take you back to the hotel.”

She tightened her arms around herself, shaking her head. “No, I’m just waiting for Derek,” she said firmly.

Truman’s eyes drifted somewhere above her head; his lips quirked up very subtly. “I think he’s a little distracted.”

She followed his gaze, freezing in place as she forced the abrupt feeling of jealousy that eroded her from the inside upon the sight of Julie being intimately close to Derek; she was skimming her fingers across his arm, a mischievous smile visible even from a distance. Derek was holding one of her arms, as if trying to keep her steady—she hadn't stopped drinking ever since their arrival and was definitely drunk.

Casey took a deep breath and focused her gaze on the back of the head of the woman before her, noticing that the line had moved. Time had proven that Derek cared more about others than what he let people believe, which led _her_ to believe that he was simply trying to help Julie. 

“I’m sure they’re just talking,” Truman continued, although the slight derision in his tone suggested otherwise. “Of course Julie is a stubborn thing. She’s hard to say no to.”

Casey balled her hands into fists, genuinely considering punching Truman’s face. But she had no knowledge of fighting and she surely wasn’t in her full capacity to try it for the first time and end up breaking a finger. 

The line moved again; the short woman opened the door of the toilet and the stench of urine reached Casey’s nostrils. She grimaced, hoping the woman left the cabin as soon as possible. 

“But you must trust him, right?”

She sighed in exasperation, directing her cold gaze at Truman, who raised his eyebrows. “Just because you can’t be faithful to someone, it doesn’t mean every guy in the world is going to be like you. Some have character.”

Truman smiled, but the gesture seemed stricken. “Let’s see how long he can last without someone to satisfy him.”

After everything Truman had said and done to her, she shouldn’t be surprised at anything that left his mouth. Still, his words stung her like hundreds of sharp needles being embedded in her heart, generating an awful mix of pain and anger addressed at him. Her eyes burned with the threat of tears. It wasn’t the connotation that Derek would cheat on her as Truman did, but the implication that she could only sustain a relationship with sex. 

“Fuck you, Truman,” she yelled, savoring those words in her mouth as she pushed him by the chest as harder as she could, which made him stagger back. He arched his eyebrows in surprise and took a step forward, to which she lifted her hand in the air for him to stop. "If you come any closer, I'll call security."

He let out a sarcastic sound. "What the fuck, Casey? If you can't handle the truth, it's not my—" His speech was interrupted by Derek, who appeared seemingly out of nowhere, startling both him and Casey, shoving Truman aggressively by the shoulder.

Truman teetered back, anger clouding his features and jaw taut as he tried to approach Derek again, but received another shove. Casey could see Derek's muscles tightening as he squared his shoulders and stared at Truman with sheer wrath. She recoiled, a twinge of fear twisting her insides upon the notion of what was about to happen. 

"I told you once and I'll tell you again," Derek began; his voice was low, although the rage in its tone made it scarier than if he had yelled the words, "get the fuck away from her."

Truman stuck his nose in the air defiantly. "You got everything you wanted, didn't you?"

"I'm not in the mood for riddles, French. So why don't you," he snarled, pressing a finger to Truman's chest, "get the fuck out of here before I break your fucking face?"

Batting at Derek's hand, Truman leaned forward threateningly until their faces were only centimeters apart. Casey's heart clutched painfully inside her chest; she would have to appeal to Derek's reason before something worse happened—the prospect of seeing him getting hurt was inconceivable. 

"Oh, I'd like to see you try," Truman challenged him with a derisive smirk.

"Derek," Casey called frantically, lunging forward to wrap both her hands around his arm and pull him away from Truman.

His arm was trembling with the force he was applying to his knuckles as his hands were still squeezed into fists. Casey winced when he looked down at her, eyes still clouded with anger, but gradually softening as he relaxed his muscles. She held his gaze as she slid her hands down his arm to force his hand open and envelop it with hers in an attempt to assure him that everything was fine—or as fine as it could be.

"Is there a problem here?"

They followed the deep voice that belonged to a corpulent man dressed in a black shirt with a tiny logo embroidered on its left side of the chest. Casey looked around, only then noticing that there were a few curious bystanders watching them from afar, consequently concluding that one of them must have called for security. 

"Yes, actually," Casey hastened to say, surprised to hear her voice sounding so firm. "He... was bothering me," she said, gesturing to Truman. 

Truman had the audacity to stare at her in disbelief. "We were just talking when _he_ started a fight," he retorted, pointing at Derek.

"Maybe because you were _harassing my girlfriend_?" Derek snarled.

"That's _not_ what happened!"

"It never is," the security guard mocked with an exhausted sigh, glancing at Casey. "I'm sorry. Enjoy the rest of your night," he said, approaching Truman to pat his back twice. "You come take a walk with me, there's a nice place called the exit I think you'll like."

Truman jerked away from the guard's hand on his shoulder and cast a lethal look at Derek, whose body moved forward unwittingly as though responding to the tacit challenge. His hand squeezed hers inadvertently, a reaction that stemmed from his seething anger.

When they were far enough and the modest crowd that had flocked around them scattered, Derek turned to her with concern overshadowing the deep brown of his eyes. "Are you okay?"

She nodded promptly, although unsure about the veracity of her silent reply. His eyes rove down to their hands, still connected, and he covered them with his free hand. "You're shaking."

Caught off guard by the tenderness in his actions, she pulled her hands to herself abruptly. Derek dragged his eyes back to hers with a crease between his eyebrows. 

"I'm fine." 

“What did he say to you?”

“Nothing.”

He stared at her skeptically. “You didn’t push him for _nothing_ , Casey.”

She sighed, intransigent about keeping Truman’s last words to herself. Not only were they shameful, but she also didn't want to think about them. Even though she knew the kind-hearted boy she once knew was only a fantasy her mind had created, it was painful to know that Truman had never cared about her. It should have been obvious after the many times he hurt her consciously, but a part of her refused to believe that she had no value to him. If anything, his words confirmed that her refusal to succumb to his wishes was the reason behind his cheating.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said softly, lowering her eyes to the floor.

"Okay," he conceded a few moments later. "But he didn't... _do_ anything... right?" he asked, warily.

Casey shook her head, looking up at him again. "No." 

He scanned her face for a brief moment, clearly searching for signs of lying, and upon finding nothing, he nodded slowly.

"Thank you," she added softly.

Derek darted his eyes to the side for a moment, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah. We, uh... we can go back to the hotel if you want."

"No, I can't keep letting him ruin things for me. Plus," she added with a hint of humor, "I just told him to go fuck himself and I feel like I need to celebrate it." 

Derek's lips curved up into an amused smile, dissolving any traces of seriousness in his semblance. There was a glint of playfulness in his eyes when he said, "Well, finally you recognize the value of my advice." He held his palm upward in the air for her to take his hand. "But you need to hydrate before you can do that."

"I still have to use the toilet."

"Right." He lowered his hand. "I'll grab the water and meet you back here."

Casey smiled appreciatively and hesitated before moving; she was expecting him to leave, but apparently he was planning to make sure she stepped into the toilet before doing so. Determined to avoid another second of awkwardness, she turned around and entered the blue smelly cubicle. When she stepped out, there was already a small line of people waiting to use the toilet; Derek was standing next to it holding a bottle of water.

She snagged it out of his hand and took a large swig, sighing contentedly when the liquid reached her throat. Derek took her hand without warning and silently led her back to the food stalls as she finished her water. He reached for something on one of the counters and made his way to the empty area beside the stage, stopping to stand in front of her.

"What do you have there?" she asked, noticing the flower crown he had stolen from the counter. He lifted his hand so she could analyze it closely; made out of pink lisianthus, it was a beautiful handmade object, one of the many she had seen for sale near the entrance of the festival and decorating people's heads. Casey giggled. “I’m not sure pink is your color, Derek.” 

He rolled his eyes. “I look good in _any_ color.” He fidgeted with one of the flowers and looked back at her with a toying glimmer in his eyes. “Julie was hitting on me again, but who can blame her?” He smirked when she snorted. “But I rejected her because I’m loyal to you, of course. Then she threw this at me.” 

He raised his arms and took a step forward; Casey stiffened when he positioned the crown on her head as gingerly as possible. There was nothing abnormal about the gesture if it wasn’t for the fact that it was _Derek_. She searched for his eyes unwittingly as his fingers brushed a few locks of her hair away from her face and smoothed them down with unusual gentleness.

“There,” he said, and she sucked in her breath the moment his eyes latched onto hers. It might have been the alcohol, but she could swear his eyes had the same glow from when he looked at her in the hotel room before they left; like he was momentarily stunned. 

“Derek...” Her lips projected his name out on their own, stressing how little self-control she had around him. 

He leaned forward slightly. “What?”

She swallowed, certain that if she didn’t look away from his eyes, she would give in. Once again, she was letting her emotions command her actions; if she was drawn to Derek before, now that he was acting so softly, picking up fights for her and showering her with sweet words, the feeling had intensified. 

Casey shrugged nonchalantly, letting her eyes wander to the crowd behind him. “You don’t have to reject her.”

“Who?”

“Julie. It's okay if you want to... you know..." 

"No, I don't,” he retorted sarcastically. “Enlighten me." 

Casey sighed. "You know exactly what I mean, Derek." She touched her cheek with her cold palm, rejoicing in the contrast against her suddenly hot skin. 

He bit the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile. "What makes you think I want to hook up with _Julie_? Plus, we're kind of dating, I'm not sure you remember that." 

She brushed away the firmness in his affirmation with a subtle shake of her head. "We can end it at any time." She winced subtly as the words came out, realizing that after that night and what she had said to Truman, there was probably no reason for them to continue their fake relationship.

"You _do_ know I can't stand her, right?"

" _Derek._ "

"What? It's true, I'd rather listen to Tom fucking Walsh reciting his grocery list than hear her call me ‘baby’ again." He scrunched up his nose in repulse. "Having a reason to tell her off is the greatest joy you've brought me, Casey," he added with a playful smile that made her heart flutter. 

"Wow." She couldn’t help a sarcastic sound. “My mom was right.”

He frowned at the change of topic. “What?”

“You’re maturing. You’re prioritizing content over looks.”

Derek scoffed in mocking disbelief. “Excuse me? I was never that shallow.”

“ _Sure._ I guess you _didn’t_ hook up with Julie because she’s pretty, then.”

He narrowed his eyes with the shadow of a smirk dancing on his lips. “Okay. _Fine_ ,” he conceded, bending dangerously closer to her. “I _did_. And now I’m sure you’re going to tell me that you _don’t_ feel attracted to guys by their looks.”

Casey gaped at him. “Why am _I_ being dragged into this?”

“Because you’re a hypocrite.”

She scoffed. “Okay, well... _yes._ And _no_. Being attracted to them doesn’t mean instantly _making out_ with them.” 

He shook his head, looking at her with a toying grin. She nearly stopped breathing when he moved his hands to gently toss her hair behind her shoulders, leaving her neck exposed. She quivered involuntarily, unable to refrain herself from recalling the last time he had been this close to her. Their last kiss was still fresh in her memory; every one of his touches still seemed to linger on her skin like a bright flame that refused to die out. She had to force herself to stare at him instead of letting her eyes drop to his lips as she wished to do. He was so insanely hot it was unfair. 

“ _Casey_ ,” he drawled, letting his hands rest on her shoulders. “It doesn’t make any difference.”

“Of course it does,” she replied in a low voice. 

“Well, not if you still feel the... _desire_.” His eyebrows rose at the last word and she had a feeling he was purposefully adding raspiness to his voice. Her pulse quickened immediately. “You know? You don’t _act_ on it, but you still _feel_ it. Which kind of makes you the same as me. So if it turns you on... you might as well just do something about it.”

_Of course_ her face flushed instantly and Derek’s eyes didn’t miss it. How did she manage to turn a banal conversation into a discussion about physical attraction and making out? _Those are not appropriate topics to discuss with Derek!_ It seemed like she was always sabotaging herself, her mind sneakily feeding lines to her mouth, imposing that awkward—yet weirdly stimulating—tension between them. 

Her stomach twisted pleasantly with a twinge of excitement and, this time, she couldn’t help but stare at his mouth. He was openly flirting with her, his suggestive words bordering on inappropriate, yet she followed his lead. But then she remembered that Derek was _allowed_ to openly flirt and utter husky suggestive words. The thought made her heart beat even faster; if she allowed herself to think that she could reciprocate under the idea that it was expected from her, she would end up losing control. Because against her better judgment, she _was_ unhealthily attracted to him and begrudgingly turned on—but he didn’t need to know _that_.

"So that whole speech about Julie was bullsh—” The rest of her words were replaced by a gasp when Derek captured her lips into an abrupt kiss. 

Casey heard the low thud of the water bottle hitting the floor next to them as it escaped her grip. She didn’t have much time to think, because her hands were instinctively grabbing his shoulders and he was moving his hand to her hip to pull her against him while the other trailed down her spine to press against her lower back. Casey shivered with the sensation of his cold fingers on her bare skin, a stark contrast to the hotness she felt. Unlike the kiss they had shared last, she wasn’t in control—and she didn’t mind one bit,—and Derek’s rhythm wasn’t as slow and careful as hers. His lips were eager and impatient, nearly forcing her to keep the same intensity as him. 

Her hands slid up to grab his face and he responded by tightening his grip around her, his fingers drawing small circles on her back, lighting up every nerve and leaving her mind completely empty. His other hand grabbed the hair at the nape of her neck to bring her face even closer to his. She was only left with the savage beat of her heart and the sounds of their heavy breaths mixing, which were the culprits she found for what happened next. 

She licked his bottom lip unwillingly and Derek let out a surprising sound that resembled a moan, opening his mouth to allow her in. _Strawberry_. It was there, a faint taste of her own flavor on his mouth again. She groaned, desperate to enhance and prolong that intoxicating feeling of happiness and longing, arching into him, stuck in a battle for dominance with his tongue and her own sentiments. 

Sentiments that were only hers.

That were slowly waning her sanity.

_Welcome back, reason_. Or was it anxiety? She could never tell.

Casey broke the kiss as suddenly as Derek had started it and pulled away just enough to look at him; both panting, bodies still glued, defying the laws of physics, occupying the same space at the same time. She was certain her eyes were wide with shock, but Derek was staring back at her in subtle bemusement. 

His hand moved from her face to her waist, while her eyes went straight to his lips, alarmingly inviting. When he swallowed, she gazed back into his eyes, finally letting her hands drop to his shoulders. His arms were firmly pressed around her, his fingertips now slightly warmer on her skin. 

“Oh, my God,” she uttered. “I’m sorry, Der—I don’t know what—”

"What are you sorry for?" he asked in a low voice that shouldn’t have messed with her heart as much as it did. "If we’re playing the part, we might as well have fun while doing it," he teased with that stupid smirk. 

Disappointment washed over her at the confirmation that he was, indeed, only taking advantage of their situation to 'have fun'. Yet inappropriate scenarios ran through her head and she squeezed his shoulders hard in an attempt to hurt him. 

“You’re not going to slap me, are you?”

She rolled her eyes. "I'd probably miss your face if I tried to."

He smirked, finally loosening his arms, but still leaving them secure around her. Casey folded her hands behind his neck instinctively, trying to steady her breath. The colorful lights from the stage touched his face in a beautiful, alluring dance.

"This is probably the best first date you've ever had," he said smugly. "If we ignore the unpleasant presences and occurrences." 

She frowned. "Date?"

"Well, yeah. Technically, this is the first time we're going out as a couple." 

_Couple_. Casey still hadn't gotten used to the word. She was starting to feel too dangerously attached to it. 

She scoffed playfully. "Well, if this is your ideal first date..." 

His lips quirked up into a smirk. "Oh, come on! I know you're still not into fun, but you have to admit this was amazing." 

Casey smacked his chest with her fist, making him laugh. 

"I'm well known for my talent for designing perfect dates." 

"I thought you were well known for your selflessness, hotness and popularity." 

"The list has been updated, keep up."

Casey smiled despite herself, wondering how much of the action was the result of alcohol and how much of it was the result of his own smile. "What's been added?" 

He tilted his chin up in rehearsed thoughtfulness while she tightened her arms around his neck, unconsciously leaning closer to him. The urge to kiss him again had nearly become a need, and although she had her drunkenness to blame if she pulled his lips to hers, she didn’t want to deal with self-hatred when morning came. 

“I’m a great advisor, as you noticed,” he said, lowering his gaze to look into her eyes again. “And I’m also a fantastic fake boyfriend. _No,_ scratch that,” he countered, shaking his head. “I’m the _best_ one. Hands down.”

She giggled involuntarily, the sound escaping her lips unwittingly and bringing a genuine smile to Derek’s. For a few seconds, she stared at the uncommon phenomenon, dazed. His eyes sparkled with a hint of affection, crinkles appearing on its corners like tangible proofs that he felt as light and happy as she felt. She worshipped it.

“What?” he asked, smile persistent on his lips.

“Your smile..."

“What about it?”

Casey shook her head, still enshrouded in the magic of his eyes. She fathomed they would be glistening even under dim lights. Tilting her head to the side, she moved one hand to touch the corner of his left eye with the tip of her index finger, sliding it across the soft lines. It felt like tasting his moment of blissfulness, even if the sentiment didn’t stem from the same place as hers. 

She was under the impression Derek had moved a little, but she wasn’t sure; her eyes were following the ginger movements of her finger. "I like it when you smile like that," she confessed. It was the alcohol, she was absolutely sure of it now. 

"Like what?"

"Like... you're happy." She laid her arm around his neck again and met his gaze. "Your eyes light up."

Derek blinked as his smile faded gradually; his deep brown eyes staring back at hers as though they were trying to find an appropriate comeback with no success. There was nothing in his manual for heartfelt compliments. Without the safety of his sarcasm, he was left with helplessness.

Suddenly his proximity was made even more conspicuous and she could feel the remnants of her self-control slipping from her fingers. She wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ —kiss him again, but yearning for closeness, she stood on her toes and pulled him into a hug. Caught off guard, it took Derek a few seconds to tighten his arms around her, pressing her against his chest. 

She hid her face in the crook of his neck, desperately trying to strengthen her grip around him in a vain urge to have him closer. Somehow, that hug felt more intimate than anything they had ever shared. The sounds around them were drowned out by her own breathing, every other sensation overshadowed by his touch and his chin comfortably resting on her left shoulder.

It brought tears to her eyes. It was utterly stupid, but she wanted to cry. Because as she squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled his scent, she realized she wanted it. She wanted that gentle and soft Derek who looked at her like she was a single shining star in an inky black sky and kissed her when she least expected. She wanted that Derek, who was still her old Derek, teasing and pushing her to the limits, but who smiled with his eyes. She wanted to be involved in his world, engulfed in things she would never try for herself, but where she fit nicely because _he_ was there. She wanted to touch him whenever she pleased, because it brought her peace and caused a riot inside her body at the same time.

More than anything, she wanted it to be real.

It was painful when realization hit her, like a sharp knife twisting inside her heart to force her to look inside, directly at that spot she had reserved for Derek without even noticing. She had tried to hide it, like covering a crack on the wall with a beautiful wallpaper. She could ignore its existence, but it was still there.

She remembered an incident from when she was ten. After spraining her ankle during a dance class and being terrified at the thought of visiting a doctor, she told her mother she was fine. She winced through the pain at every step she took until it became unbearable, and when she was inevitably taken to the doctor, her bruise had worsened. It hurt more to heal. 

Casey had been lying to herself for so long that now that the comprehension of the scope of her feelings dawned on her, it hurt more. Time had gone by and the bruises were larger; invisible marks on her skin, all inflicted by his kisses and his every touch. They had done too much, shared too much—and there was no way to heal it this time.

Maybe there were two truths: pain and love didn’t fade on their own if not faced; sometimes they never faded at all. The damage was even bigger when they overlapped. She stopped breathing for a moment, her heart speeding up as she finally admitted to herself that she was in love with him. Her body went still and her fingers flexed helplessly until her hands were balled into fists against his back. 

She opened her mouth, unsure of what would come out if she dared to speak. It scared her and she closed it again, subtly moving her arm to dry her eyes with the back of her hand, because at some point a tear had rolled down her cheek. Completely astonished, she pondered on the irony of her situation; the very person who she swore to be the bane of her existence once was the first person to introduce her to love. 

“Casey,” Derek called smoothly, to which she shuddered. “I need to tell you something.”

She opened her eyes to the dancing crowd behind them, the music suddenly exploding in her ears again as if she had been stuck inside a tiny room before opening the door to step outside. Her eyes spotted a woman staggering a few meters away from them; she could barely keep her balance as she stumbled on her own feet with a bottle of beer secure in her hand. It took Casey a moment to realize it was Julie. 

Casey disentangled herself from Derek, suddenly worried for the woman. She didn’t necessarily like Julie, but she knew what could happen to drunk girls in places like that. Something of the sort had happened to her once and she wasn't even drunk. The thought made her shiver. 

“We should check up on Julie,” she said, finally looking at Derek. 

He frowned, visibly taken aback by the sudden change of topic, but followed her gaze. Julie had paused her attempts to walk and was now drinking her beer in large gulps. Derek sighed profoundly, hesitating before holding Casey’s hand and marching towards Julie.

Casey ignored the tingling sensation in her palm. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked the moment they approached Julie.

The blonde looked up at her, squinting her eyes as if trying to recognize her face, and smiled sarcastically. “Never better, Katie,” she assured in a slurred speech. 

Casey glanced at Derek. “Maybe we should take her back to the hotel.”

“Oh, aren’t you a saint?” Julie mocked, stretching her hand to touch the flower crown in Casey’s head. In an abrupt movement, she removed it and held it against her chest, drifting her eyes to Derek. “This is mine.”

Derek huffed, annoyed. “Who did you come with?”

Julie pouted as if in deep thought and tried to take a step forward, but ended up tripping on her own feet and falling into Derek’s chest. He caught her promptly, using his free hand to place it on her back. Casey pulled her hand out of his as casually as possible, ignoring the inquisitive look he cast at her; it was enough to feel like her jealousy was eating her from the inside. 

"Oops." Julie giggled. "I came with Steph, Tommy... um... there were two other guys too,” she added with another giggle. “I’d rather go back with _you_ , though."

Casey sighed quietly, groping for her phone inside her back pocket. “I’ll text the group to tell them we’re taking her back,” she said, more bitterly than intended. 

“Jules?” Tom’s voice reached Casey’s ears. She turned to see him approaching with Harry. “Is she alright?”

“I’m okay, Tommy,” Julie guaranteed, shoving her face into Derek’s chest as she looped her arms around his torso. Derek looked fairly annoyed, but his hand was firmly placed on her back. “Der is taking me back to the hotel.”

“There are only fifteen minutes left until they close anyway,” Harry mentioned.

“Yeah,” Derek agreed gruffly. “Let’s go, Case.”

“Wait,” Julie said, sighing dramatically. "Can you carry me? I don't think I can walk." 

Casey rolled her eyes, wishing that moment was over. All she wanted was to go back to her room and sleep to forget her problems. Derek sighed deeply and reluctantly complied, placing one arm under Julie’s back and the other under the back of her knees to lift her up into his arms. He did it with such ease that Casey was momentarily stunned by his strength, sighing at the idea of being carried by him. 

Her brief daydream was interrupted by Tom questioning, “Can _you_ walk, Casey?”

"Yeah. I'll see you guys tomorrow," she said, casting a polite smile at him and Harry before following Derek. There were cabs provided by the festival by the entrance, so they didn’t have to wait; Derek sat Julie in the backseat and slid in after her, while Casey chose the passenger seat. She pretended not to notice how her heart clenched when she saw Julie laying her head on Derek’s chest and placing her arm around his waist. The ride was awfully silent, and she was thankful when the driver turned on the radio to let a pop song play softly in the background.

Julie was asleep when they arrived at the hotel, and Derek had to carry her in his arms again as Casey asked for their room keys at the reception. She chose to go to her own room while Derek dealt with Julie, throwing herself on the bed the second she stepped into the place. Every centimeter of her body hurt with the exhaustion she felt; if she closed her eyes, she was sure she could drift off to sleep. But she needed to shower to wash off the sweat and the glitter on her body and to help her clear her head. 

Sitting up again, she remembered she didn’t have any clothes to put on and sighed at the thought of asking to borrow Derek’s. It wasn’t enough that she was about to share a room with him after _also_ having shared a heated kiss with him and discovered her real feelings in the process; she didn’t need to be dressed in his clothes and smelling his scent. 

_What has my life become?_ She was surprised her anxiety hadn’t made a guest appearance yet—she only hoped it didn’t decide to show up when Derek was around. It would be hard to explain it to him. She nearly jumped when she heard the door opening and closing, followed by Derek’s steps on the floorboard.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She hadn’t noticed she was sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the floor. Turning to him, she shook her head dismissively. It felt weird seeing his face so clearly under the lights after that night. “Is she okay?”

"She's been worse."

"Worse than _that_?"

He let out a mocking chuckle. "One sees that you haven't drunk enough alcohol in your life."

Casey couldn't even bring herself to roll her eyes; she stood up to face him, shoving her hands inside the back pockets of her shorts, slightly embarrassed. “I need to take a shower,” she said. 

Derek pursed his lips playfully. “Thanks for the update?”

"I don't have clothes, Derek," she reminded him with impatience. 

“Didn’t Stephanie lend you some?”

“She didn’t have anything I could wear _to bed_.”

He cocked his eyebrow cheekily. "You want _my_ clothes?"

"It's not like I have any other alternative. I certainly won’t ask _Julie_."

Derek plastered a smirk on his lips and she groaned under her breath to conceal the unequivocal effect it had on her. There was something about wearing his clothes and wondering if she would smell like him when morning came.

"Let me see what I have," he practically sang in mockery, sifting through his clothes, which were poorly folded inside his bag. “Here,” he said, turning to her with a crumpled blue shirt and a pair of black sweatpants in his hands.

Casey approached him warily, accepting the clothes with a subtle nod of gratitude. “Thanks.” She nibbled on the inside of her bottom lip, snapping her head up to reach his eyes. “I... need more.”

He cocked his eyebrows again, visibly amused by her embarrassment. "I don’t know, I feel like this relationship is going too fast, Casey. It’s one thing to let you wear my _shirt_ —"

She sighed impatiently, feeling her cheeks suffuse with color as usual. "Derek, don't make this harder than it already is, _please_."

Derek chuckled. "What? I'm _loving_ this."

Casey groaned again, deliberately avoiding his eyes when he picked up a pair of boxers. She held it by its waistband, using only her fingertips, which made Derek laugh under his breath. She ran straight to the bathroom, locking the door behind her and tossing his clothes next to the sink as if they were dirty. 

_This can’t get any worse._

She took a deep breath and took her clothes off, turning the shower on. The notion that she was standing under the same shower Derek had used a few hours ago made her freeze for a second. They did share a bathroom for four years, but it was _drastically_ different when they were alone in a hotel room and she was faced with the cruel truth that she was irrevocably in love with him. 

Casey sighed and let the hot water run down her body, breathing a sigh of satisfaction. She reached for her shampoo and began to wash her hair gently, letting herself be overwhelmed by the array of emotions that pulled at her heart. She didn’t know how, but she had lost all her sanity. 

Within a few hours, she had fought against her instincts, kissed him with a passion she had never felt before, hugged him while crying like a little child and found out that she needed him more than she could imagine. Not to mention that provocative banter they started right before he kissed her; it had excited her a little more than it should have. 

She shouldn’t feel ashamed for being turned on, it was simply a natural reaction of the human body. Biology. But even if she ignored her own bashfulness about the subject, _Derek_ shouldn’t be the one instigating it on her—quite literally, since he purposefully provoked it. It was one thing to briefly fantasize about kissing him—and even _that_ was questionable—but it was another to fantasize about— _GAH!_

She couldn’t even bring herself to say it. But the mental images were rolling inside her mind, like a sinful reminder that she _wanted_ it. She wanted _him_. If it hadn’t been for her rational side stepping in at the first sign of danger—aka her sticking her tongue inside her step-brother’s mouth—she wasn’t sure she would’ve stopped it. And now she couldn’t stop thinking about—and fearing—what would have happened if it had been the case.

With a gasp, she took a step back and her back collided with the cold tiles of the shower. She was thinking of Derek in the shower. She should _not_ be thinking about Derek in the shower! Not in _that_ way. Not in _any way._

She got out of the shower as quickly as possible, focusing her thoughts on any subjects unrelated to Derek. It worked until her eyes found his clothes forgotten on the sink. Taking a deep breath, she galvanized herself into action by remembering they were just pieces of fabric that belonged to him. But her fingers found his underwear and her own method of motivation failed; it was hard not to imagine Derek inside them now. A tingly feeling started in her belly as she caught her own face in the mirror and blushed; if Derek had a glimpse of what was running through her mind, he would never stop teasing her. 

Closing her eyes with a frustrated sigh, she slipped her legs into the holes of the fabric; the waistband was definitely loose on her hips, but they weren’t in danger of falling off. Opening her eyes again, she put on the shirt, inhaling the scent of his body spray that had clung to it, and moved to the sweatpants. They fell to the floor as soon as she pulled them up.

_Please, no._

Casey approached the bathroom door and rested her forehead against it with a long sigh. “Derek?”

She heard steps before he said, “Yeah?”

“Do you have any other pair of pants?” 

“Why?”

“This one is too big.”

It took him a moment to reply and she could hear the smile in his voice when he did, "Those are the tightest I have.”

She whimpered, moving away from the door. “That’s just great.”

"No kidding, I'm having the time of my life."

"Der- _ek_!"

He blatantly laughed. "Hold on," he said. Casey waited a few seconds before he told her, "Open the door."

"I am not opening the door, Derek!"

"Just take this shirt."

She sighed, unlocking the door to open only a fraction, just enough for Derek’s hand to go through the sliver. She snagged the piece he was holding out of his hand and slammed the door shut again. The black shirt was longer than the one she was wearing, which barely reached her hips. Trading them promptly, she noticed the loose new shirt covered more skin, but still left a good portion of her thighs bare.

There was no way she would parade around the room with her legs showing in front of Derek. The thought made her flush instantly. Groaning quietly, she brushed her teeth and wrapped the towel around her waist after gathering her clothes to leave the bathroom. 

She halted at the sight of Derek leaning back against the adjacent wall, standing in front of the bathroom. His mouth was twisted into a sardonic smile that made her clench her jaw; his eyes traveled down her shirt and stopped on the towel. "You're sleeping in a wet towel?"

"No." She rolled her eyes, wagging her finger in the air in a circular movement. "Turn around."

"Why?"

"I don't want you to look."

He knitted his brows together in mock-disbelief. “You borrow my clothes and I can’t even see how they look on you?”

“ _Turn around_ , Derek!” she repeated menacingly.

He rolled his eyes theatrically before obliging and turning his back to her. She stared at him for a few seconds just for good measure and hung her towel in the bathroom, making a beeline for the closet to store Stephanie’s clothes and finally slip under the blanket on the bed. 

“You can move now,” she said, sitting against the headboard and pulling the blanket up to her waist. “I left your pants in the bathroom, you might want to take a shower,” she added when he was in her line of sight.

“Very subtle,” Derek sneered. He took off his necklace, placing it on her bedside table and grabbed a change of clothes to saunter off into the bathroom, leaving Casey alone with her thoughts once again. 

The numbers on her phone screen showed her it was past three in the morning, but she wasn’t sure she would be able to sleep anymore. It felt too loud inside her mind, like a cacophony of thoughts that overlapped each other until she was driven to bang her head against the wall. 

She regretted not bringing her diary; writing down what she was feeling was not only a cathartic experience, but could help her elaborate a plan regarding her latest discovery. What was she supposed to do with that knowledge now? With the fact that she had been stupid enough to fall for Derek's charms, just another one of the girls she had critiqued throughout high school? With the fact that she was in a fake relationship with him and it was bound to end? 

She closed her eyes and let her head fall against the headboard. It wasn’t like she could simply walk up to him and tell her she was in love with him; it would not only cost her her dignity—because she was sure he would tell her she was confusing things since it was all an act,—but also end up driving him away. And she couldn’t take that. If she wanted to leave as unscathed as possible, she would have to keep her feelings hidden and hope she could fall out of love eventually.

It was awfully tragic that she couldn’t enjoy the euphoria of her first love; it felt like an anticlimactic twist to a story she had been longing to live since she was a child. It brought a sad smile to her lips.

She opened her eyes again when she heard the bathroom door opening and Derek appeared in the room wearing only his sweatpants. _Of course_. The heady scent of soap invaded her nostrils when he stopped by her side to grab his necklace from the bedside table. Her eyes slid to his chest for a split second—she was only human—and then back to her hands folded over her lap.

“What’s with you?” Derek asked as he walked around the bed to reach the other side. His hand found the edge of the blanket and she straightened her back to look at him, ignoring his question.

"What are you doing?"

He looked up at her. "Going to bed?"

"You're not sleeping with me," she said, sounding slightly frantic. She couldn’t share a _bed_ with him, that would extrapolate the limits. 

Derek raised his eyebrows. "Do you want me to sleep on my feet?"

"Sleep on the _floor_ , Derek." 

He snorted. "Get yourself more pillows, make a line of them down the center or get out if you will, but I'm not sleeping on the floor."

"Der- _ek_!"

He lifted the blanket and laid down on his back, turning his head to look at her. "We've slept in the same bed before, Casey, it's not a big deal."

She gasped, trying her best not to let her eyes drift to his exposed chest. It was like he was doing it on purpose. "Your _sister_ was there."

Derek chuckled amusedly, as if enjoying a joke she couldn’t understand. He rolled onto his side, facing her, and closed his eyes. "Don't worry, I can keep my hands to myself."

She stared at him agape, outrage by his mockery. Huffing loudly, she reached up for the light switch above the bed and turned off the lights, sliding down to lay on her back. Derek’s warm breath tickled her cheeks and she took a deep breath, keenly aware of the darkness that engulfed both of them, bringing back the memories of another dark night in London. 

Only there was no one else there. It was only them. In a bed. While she was dressed in his clothes and he didn’t have a shirt on. Her stomach twisted at the thought, and she flipped onto her side to face him. Now his breath was on her lips, making them tingle ever so slightly. 

“Derek?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you want to tell me?”

She felt his pillow shifting next to hers. “What?”

“Before we went to help Julie,” she recalled, “you said you wanted to tell me something.”

She had been so close to telling him something as well. Something entirely different from what _he_ intended to say, she was sure. In a second she could have destroyed a relationship built in years.

“Oh.” He took a moment to reply, “Never ask me about what I say when I’m drunk. Most of it is shit. The rest totally gets lost.”

Casey winced in the dark, unconsciously jerking back. She nodded at the nothingness, feeling exhausted. It had little to do with physical exhaustion. “Good night,” she whispered. 

“Night, Case.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry. I had to add a little angst.  
> But I really want to punch them both in the face, even though I love them.  
> At least we have two idiots recognizing they're in love?
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, though. And as always, thank you so much for all the kind comments and kudos you left me in the previous chapters ❤️  
> Have a lovely day!


	10. Of Sunlight and Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys ❤️ 
> 
> I'm so sorry about the time it took me to post again, but life's been a little crazy lately and I didn't have much time to go over this chapter. I want to be more consistent now, hopefully I can manage my time a little better to do it. But thank you for the patience and here's a new chapter!
> 
> (Also, I had to change the rating to Mature because I realized it fit more with the sensitive content here. I'll keep adding trigger warnings whenever necessary too. Now I'm done. Enjoy your reading!)

_“Wish I could kiss you when I wanna_

_Without all the fear and all the drama_

_Kill to hold your hand in public_

_I need you closer_

_Can we go somewhere no one knows us?”_

_(No One Knows Us - BANNERS)_

Derek 

The familiar hyper-awareness of his body woke him up when he tried to change his position in bed, causing him to wince at the soreness he felt across his body. He never knew when the exhaustion from the previous day started and when his hangover ended; they always met halfway and left him wishing he were dead. Just for a moment.

He opened his eyes to the ceiling, squeezing them shut when the excessive brightness of daylight nearly burned his pupils and directed his attention to the obnoxious pounding inside his head. It took him a moment of regretting and questioning his own decisions to realize there was something compressing his chest and right leg.

Derek rubbed his eyes with the heels of his left hand and slowly opened them again, blinking against the luminosity of the room. Turning his head to the side, he found Casey asleep, facing him; she had tossed her half of the blanket aside and pressed herself against _his_ side. One of her hands was on his chest, while her leg was casually crossed over his.

A smile danced on his lips as he reminisced on her reluctance to sleep with him the night before; he would _love_ to tease her about it. He lifted his head to confirm that her leg was in fact spread on top of his, barely covered by his shirt. His eyes couldn’t help but follow the patch of visible skin that ended dangerously at the upper half of her thigh. 

He took a deep breath, conscious of the fact that it was wrong to gawk at her, especially when she had expressly told him not to the previous night, but she was right there. And he... just wanted to slide his hands across the soft skin of her legs now.

Groaning quietly, he lowered his head onto the bed again and shut his eyes. He wondered if she remembered anything from the night before, because it was engraved inside his brain like a tattoo. He memorized every single second, from the beauty and the carelessness that emanated from her as she danced in the middle of a crowd with a prism-like set of lights swaying across her skin to the suffocating happiness she naturally noticed him drowning in. 

Sometimes, he thought he had the upper hand. He was able to flirt and tease her with words that made her blood concentrate on her cheeks; he found her breaking point and used it until he turned his guilt into satisfaction, because he had been waiting for an opportunity to kiss her again for a long time. And if she accepted his kiss, she wanted it too. She even lost herself in it, in _him_. If he had learned something in the last couple of weeks, it was that Casey never let her emotions cloud reason around him; she never gave in to his flirting and she _definitely_ never kissed him like that. 

But while Casey couldn’t deal with his taunting, he couldn’t deal with her kindness. The way she turned a heated moment into serenity; a smirk into a blissful smile; desire into pure and sheer love. It left him completely defenseless; he had no weapons against the way she looked and the bluntness of her affection. He didn’t know what to do with them. 

And he had been so close to telling her. When she sought his warmth, the words were begging for freedom at the tip of his tongue. _I'm in love with you_. It was so simple, like telling her the sky was blue—both were facts. In a resentful way, he was glad he was forced to swallow them down again; spilling everything out when they were both considerably drunk wasn't ideal _or_ right. He needed her to be fully conscient when he told her—plus, he still had a plan to follow and being hasty would only ruin it. 

Casey sighed beside him, and he focused on the steady movement of his chest as he breathed; her hand accompanying its rhythm absentmindedly. Her touch was warm over his skin; he had the impression that its warmth had spread out on the inside as well, filling up his chest. 

She groaned quietly. “My head,” she complained, voice raspy from sleep.

“We call it hangover.”

Derek felt her body tensing upon hearing his voice, presuming that she was only now aware of her body being in contact with his. He waited quietly as she absorbed the situation and rolled onto her back, away from him. Suddenly missing her touch, he turned his head to the side to watch her covering her face with her hands and grinned. 

“Derek?” she called, slightly concerned.

“What?”

She rubbed her palms against her flushed face and dropped them to the mattress. “What... happened?”

His grin petered out instantly at the idea that she didn’t remember a thing. His heart clenched inside his chest, but he masked with commendable ease and rehearsed a smirk, although she wasn’t looking at him. 

“I can’t believe you’d forget such an... _eventful_ night.”

Her eyes widened at the ceiling and he felt his lips turning into a real smile, because if there was nothing he could do to retrieve her memories, at least he could still mess with her. 

“Too bad, really. It was one of my best performances.”

“Your best..." she echoed, alarmed, as she sat up and turned to him with her eyes as wide as saucers. He could hear her breathing heavily now. “ _What_?”

Derek’s smile evolved into a smirk again and he propped himself up to level their eyes. “It hurts a little that you can’t remember. You were... very satisfied.”

Her blood seemed to suddenly concentrate solely on her cheeks, and she shied away from his glance to stare at the adjacent wall with a lost look. He was beginning to think that he would be responsible for a panic attack. 

“With my performance,” he repeated. “Of a fake boyfriend.”

Casey blinked, turning to him once again; only now her eyes were narrowed and her jaw was taut. He picked up his own pillow to hold it protectively in front of his face, anticipating her attack. She scoffed in outrage and shoved his shoulder harshly, which made him chuckle. 

“ _Why_ would you joke about something like that?”

"Why would _you_ jump to _that_ conclusion?" he countered, lowering his pillow into his lap. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Der- _ek_.”

"Hey, I'm not judging," he teased, raising his hands in redemption. "But _one_ , I don't take advantage of drunk girls and _two,_ you wouldn't be able to forget it."

"Der- _ek_ ," she chided louder, giving him a painful slap on the arm.

He hissed, but couldn't help a smirk as her cheeks burned blatantly, disclaiming what her mouth couldn’t. Casey groaned, turning her face to the other side. There was an inevitable feeling of satisfaction prodding at him for knowing that she thought herself capable of crossing another line with him.

“You really can’t remember anything?" he pried. "Like _at all_?”

She ran her hand through her hair, creating some sort of barrier with it as she blocked his view of her face. “Not really." He was trying to decide whether she sounded unconvincing or he was simply imagining things for the sake of the frustration he felt when she asked, "What time is it?” 

“No idea.”

She groped for her phone on her bedside table and adjusted herself to rest her back against the headboard, gasping as she looked at her screen. He was positive she had told him the time, but his attention was fully directed at her legs again, since the fabric of his shirt had rolled up with her movement and allowed him a privileged view of the bare skin of her thighs. He could spot the faint notes of body glitter covering them. 

After having her suggesting that they had possibly had sex, it was extremely difficult to tame his own thoughts now. Sensing that his body could react if he didn’t stray away from that nonsensical idea, he desperately clung to disgusting thoughts. _Dirty socks. Edwin eating. Sweat._ Unless he was making _her_ sweat— _NO!_

"Der- _ek_!" 

He looked up wide-eyed, like a child being caught stealing from their parents’ wallet. For a second, he wondered if she had developed mind-reading abilities, but as she covered her legs with the blanket and shot him a murdering look, he confirmed she had simply noticed his stare. 

"What?"

"You know what!" She grabbed her pillow and hit his chest with it. "You pervert."

"Sorry," he said genuinely, which left her visibly confused. “You know, you could waste that energy figuring out how to get yourself clothes to wear and return what’s _mine_.”

She huffed, drifting her eyes to her cellphone. “I’ll ask Steph again. And you could do something _useful_ and order some food. I’m starving.”

“You’re lucky I’m hungry too, because that attitude is a no-no,” he mocked, scooting closer to her. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, not daring to look at him. 

“What you asked me to.” He leaned over her, stretching his arm to reach the phone on her bedside table. Casey sucked in her breath, pressing herself even harder against the headboard in a failed attempt to avoid his touch. “You have to dial the number,” he said, turning his head to face her with a smirk. 

Casey sighed, annoyed, refusing to lift her head to meet his eyes. Their faces were so close he could easily steal a quick kiss, but even if he had mustered up the courage to ignore her list of rules, he wouldn’t have been able to do it, since she turned her head to comply and dial the reception number on the phone.

He quickly ordered the most carb-loaded foods available at the hotel as Casey found a solution to her own problem. His throat felt like sandpaper, so he rolled out of bed to grab two water bottles in the minifridge and walked to his bag to find the Ibuprofen he always carried around for emergency hangovers. 

“Have this,” he offered, handing her one of the bottles and a pill.

“What’s this?” she asked, frowning at the medicine.

“I’m drugging you.”

Casey rolled her eyes and accepted the pill, but hesitated before grasping the bottle. She looked up at him, something flickering in her eyes; he felt slightly weird holding the other end of the bottle while being stuck in an odd staring contest. 

“That was a joke, in case it wasn’t clear.”

“Thanks,” she said, and then the moment was gone. Her eyes dropped to his chest for a split second, and then to the bottle. “Can you go get Stephanie’s clothes for me?”

“Did I miss the part where you hired me as your butler?”

Casey rolled her eyes, taking a large gulp of her water. “ _Please_ , Derek.”

He smirked. “How does it feel to depend on me?” 

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Hmm.” He laughed under his breath, placing the water bottle on top of the minifridge. “You’re just constantly in denial, aren’t you?”

She ignored him, sipping on what was left of her water. He made his way to the bathroom to do his personal hygiene and put on a shirt before leaving the room. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind having her walking around only in his shirt, but he had plans for that Sunday and Casey would need clothes for it to happen.

“Good morning,” Stephanie greeted him with her warm smile when he knocked on her door. He briefly wondered if she wasn’t even slightly affected by a hangover. She lifted her hand and gave him a paper bag. “It’s all in here.”

"That was quick."

Stephanie waved her hand dismissively and looked over her shoulder for a brief moment. Then, she turned to him again with an enthusiastic smile. “Did she manage on her own last night?” 

Derek scrunched up his brows together, sensing a hint of complicity he wasn’t privy to. “What?”

“I didn’t have anything she could borrow for the night,” she explained. “I told her to borrow something from you, but she was too embarrassed to even talk about _sharing a room_ with you.”

“Oh.” A smirk appeared on his lips unwittingly upon the conception that Casey had been thinking about it since the moment they arrived. “Yeah, she had no choice.”

“Be careful with her, Derek,” she advised softly, “she’s good. Maybe too good for you.”

“I know.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, letting a smile gradually spread over her lips. “Oh, wow... she _really_ got to you.”

Derek took a half step back and raised the paper bag as another thank you, determined not to answer that question, although his silence was particularly loud. Stephanie laughed lightly, shaking her head.

“You’re doing everything right, just so you know,” she said. “Keep doing that. She likes you.”

Derek snorted, disguising the fact that her words exerted a significant influence on his heart beating a little faster. “Of course she does.” 

She rolled her eyes, playfully smacking his chest with her fist. “Hey, Pete and I were thinking about walking around to get to know the city, maybe grab something to eat. Wanna come?”

“I had something else in mind.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Just make sure you’re back here before six-thirty.”

“It’s not like Casey will let me forget.”

She chuckled. “See ya.”

He nodded and turned around to make his way to the elevator. He knew Stephanie’s words were her delicate manner to ascertain he was aware of the responsibility he had in his hands. Casey was sensitive and naive, while he was definitely _not._ Stephanie probably thought he could destroy their relationship with a single mistake—and she was absolutely right. It was a scary thought, that he could mess everything up with his recklessness.

Casey was in the bathroom when he entered their room. He stopped at the door and knocked lightly. “Your clothes are here.”

"Just leave it next to the door. And stay away!"

Derek rolled his eyes, but complied, leaving the bag on the floor to walk a few steps farther into the room. He noticed there was a tray of food on the bed, now neatly done. He plopped down on his stomach and grabbed one of the burgers he had ordered, taking a big bite and nearly moaning when the greasy taste reached his tongue. He could honestly eat five of those. 

Casey sauntered into the room when he was grabbing his second burger, wearing a light, short yellow dress. He lowered the second burger he had just grabbed from the tray to take a moment to drink her in; he had seen her in every possible combination of clothes to affirm that she looked good regardless of what she was wearing, but there was something about seeing her strolling out of the bathroom as natural as possible, eyes still puffy from sleep and barefoot—only the dress adorning her like a golden halo. 

“I’m going to keep your clothes,” she said, barely glancing at him as she stuffed a plastic bag with his clothes inside her bag. “I'll wash them when we get back, okay?” 

Derek forced himself to snap out of his reverie and drifted his eyes up to hers. "Yeah, sure." Sitting up on the bed, he motioned with his chin for her to take a place next to him. She complied, smoothing out the fabric of her dress over her legs.

“You could have gone easy on the carbs,” she commented, reaching out to grab the only sandwich on the tray. 

He pulled a slice of bacon that was at the risk of falling off his burger and devoured it. “Trust me, your body needs it," he said, biting into his burger before asking, "Did you talk to Stephanie yesterday?”

Casey finished chewing and used a napkin that was on the tray to clean her mouth. “Can you be more specific?”

“When you went there to borrow her clothes.”

“Oh.”

Derek eyed her curiously as her expression twisted from neutrality into uneasiness; he didn’t know how she was able to act while on stage, because her capacity to mask her emotions in real life was null. He honestly wasn’t expecting to find any stories worthy of making her feel embarrassed, all he wanted was to understand where Stephanie’s advice was rooted. 

“Why?” she asked, occupying herself with her food and staring strictly at the tray.

He grabbed a napkin after finishing his burger to wipe the grease off his hands and reached for the portion of fries. “No reason, just asking.”

“What did she say?”

He had to repress a laugh; her apprehension was so evident that he was starting to feel bad. But there was a reason for her reaction and it was obviously connected to _him_. “Did _you_ say something to her? Maybe about _me_?”

Casey shook her head, finishing her food and promptly standing up to walk to the minifridge. Derek turned on the bed, following her with his gaze, watching as she grabbed a water bottle and drank at least half of it in a couple of seconds. 

“Did you tell her you like me?”

She nearly choked on the water, placing it on top of the minifridge as she coughed. He chuckled under his breath, jumping out of bed to sidle up to her and gently pat her back. She stepped away from him, raising her hand to her neck as she cleared her throat. 

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, then answer my question.”

Casey sighed, looking at anything but him. “Yes, Derek,” she said, hastily adding, “because she literally _asked me_ if I liked you. She thinks we’re dating, so I couldn’t tell her the actual truth, right?”

“That would’ve been more believable if you hadn’t nearly died when I asked you a simple question.”

She raised her eyes to him, agape. “What, you think I _like_ you?”

“No, don’t try to turn this around on me,” he said, wagging his finger in the air with a smirk. 

Casey rolled her eyes, trying to act as nonchalant as possible, although he could see red spots crawling up her neck. “Wow, you’ve outdone yourself, Derek,” she said, turning her back on him to make a beeline for the bathroom. 

He followed her promptly, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe as he watched her fumble with a tube of toothpaste. “Why is that?”

“I know your ego is too big for your own good, but this is another level of self-confidence,” she retorted, proceeding to brush her teeth with unnecessary eagerness. 

Derek nodded, moving away from the door frame to stand next to her, grabbing his own toothbrush. “I guess it’s a good thing you can act, then,” he said, applying a layer of toothpaste to his brush. “It must suck to pretend that you enjoy kissing me.”

She stared at him through the mirror, eyes filled with incredulity; it didn’t seem nearly as intimidating when she had a thick green layer of toothpaste on the corners of her mouth. Shaking her head in annoyance, she finished brushing her teeth and left the bathroom without casting him another glance. It was quite frustrating, since he was constantly expecting her to defy him whenever he teased her.

"You're not playing this right," he mumbled playfully, rinsing his mouth before finding her on the bed, casually organizing the plates and napkins on the tray. “What, not even a ‘Der- _ek_ ’?” he asked, letting his voice raise to a high pitch at the end. 

Casey stopped her work to stare at him with a fake smile. “It took me some time to realize it, but if I don’t take the bait, it’s not as fun for you. Is it?”

He smirked. “As long as I make you flustered, it _is_.”

She clenched her jaw, but upon seemingly remembering what she had just told him, she relaxed it and forced another smile. “Whatever, Derek. Pete texted me while you were away,” she said, “he’s killing time downtown before we have to go back to Kingston.”

“We’re not going with them.”

“Why?”

Derek shrugged. “We can’t take a bunch of people to our date.”

She cocked her eyebrows. “Our _what_?”

“Date,” he repeated mockingly, “that thing when two people go to the same place together and, well, do stuff together.”

“You’re out of your mind.” 

"You put me up to a challenge last night, I _can't_ back out from a challenge." 

" _I_ put you up to a challenge?"

“Yes, right after you kissed me,” he said provokingly.

“ _You_ kissed _me_.”

"Oh, so you _do_ remember," he said, rejoicing in the way she diverted from his gaze with shame written all over her face in the form of a violent blush. He crossed his arms, a smirk seemingly permanent on his lips. 

"I remember _a few_ things, Derek."

“Oh, of course you wouldn't forget about _that_." He poked the inside of his cheek with the tip of his tongue to suppress a smile when she turned to him with an attempt of an impassive look. "Anyway, you dismissed our first date _and_ my mastery in designing perfect dates. So I’ll have you apologizing to me by the end of the day.”

She snorted. “ _Apologizing_ to you?”

“For that and for lying, of course. So, less talking, more... primping.” He took a few steps back, smirking persistently at her, who looked away with an eye roll. “Meet me downstairs in twenty, babe.”

She scoffed, maintaining her eyes away from him as he turned around and left her in the room by herself with an amused chuckle. But despite his efforts to convince himself that his confidence remained unshaken, the almost unfamiliar feeling of nervousness suggested otherwise. 

Derek had been planning—he didn’t even know that word existed in his vocabulary—that particular day ever since Casey accepted his invitation to the festival. His insane plan to make her fall in love with him wouldn’t be more than a utopian idea if he didn’t add strategies to it—and he may be new to the love territory, but his knowledge of dating _and_ Casey was extensive. 

Casey was utterly averse to the idea of spending the weekend in Ottawa, unable to study and inserted in a world so opposite from hers. He had managed to turn her complaints prior to the trip into expectation to visit places she hadn’t been able to get to know yet. She probably thought he wasn’t listening to her rambling—and he _did_ ignore most of what she said whenever she started talking about history or art—but he paid attention to the important parts. Not that he would ever tell her. But sometimes he liked to know about what made her feel fulfilled and happy, like how hockey, cinema and music made him feel.

He asked Scrawny Guy to call a cab at the reception and found a seat in one of the empty chairs in the lobby, pulling his phone out of his pocket to entertain himself while he waited. As he saw the minutes passing by on his screen, he started to doubt his own plan. Somehow in the middle of that madness, Casey had managed to break his assurance. He couldn’t make her fall in love with him, could he? He wasn’t even sure if he _wanted_ her to fall in love with him now— _because what then?_

But he forced his doubts down his throat and ignored the pang in his stomach when she appeared behind the elevator doors, like a walking halo in that dress, hair flowing naturally on her shoulders. It hit him, as he stood up, that it was happening. It was a date. A date with the woman he was in love with. Apparently that factor was the culprit for the uneasiness he felt.

“Huh,” he said, meeting her halfway with a smirk, "you even put on blue eyeshadow. Casey, are you trying to impress me? ‘Cause it's working."

A light shade of pink began to tinge her cheeks, but she narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm committing to the part. Or did you want me to leave looking like I just rolled out of bed?"

"I've seen it. It's a good look on you."

She gasped in sheer disbelief, to his utter amusement. "You're a—"

“Pig,” he completed, rolling his eyes. “So predictable. Now, come on, the cab is waiting outside."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Casey stared at him in suspiciousness, but followed him nonetheless. Derek explained the directions to the driver before sliding on the backseat beside Casey, who, _unsurprisingly_ couldn’t stop questioning him—and her own decision to agree to go out with him. He placed his suddenly damp hands on his knees and managed his best impression of nonchalant Derek— _how he missed that guy_ —as he ignored her attempts to make him reveal his plans.

It was worth it to see her lips parting and her eyes shining in a mix of surprise and astonishment when the car stopped by the entrance of the National Gallery. For some unknown reason, she was fascinated by art and history—and he had never stepped into a historical place unless on a school trip. Yet he was there. And while he watched her lips quirking up into a smile, he thought that maybe there was an appeal in observing art. 

Casey drifted her eyes to him, cocking her eyebrows. He extended his hand to her, with his palm facing upwards. 

“What is this?”

“My hand.”

She rolled her eyes. “Derek.”

“I thought it was implied that you were supposed to hold it.”

“Why would I hold your hand?”

"Aren't we committing to the part?" he reminded her with a grin. "Hold my hand and suck it up."

Casey sighed, but he could see her repressing a smile as she bit the inside of her cheek. She took his hand and he pulled her closer to his side in a gentle movement, intertwining their fingers. That riveting feeling of uneasiness and thrill returned, the shameful fear of continuing his plan that he would never admit to anyone mixed with the notion that it was in motion. 

It felt oddly weird, but equally liberating to walk outside campus or their usual life with her hand inside his. Comprehension hit him when he noticed an old couple walking arm in arm in their direction; the old lady smiled at him with an almost nostalgic look. But she didn’t know them. _No one_ knew them there; no one knew their story or the nature of their relationship and he could hold her hand or kiss her without having anyone questioning it.

Casey picked up the pace, oblivious to the silent exchange between Derek and that lovely old lady, nearly dragging him towards the grand structure of glass and granite that stood imposing before them. He felt weirdly small inside the majestic room, with soaring windows that allowed a beautiful view of the outside. 

She tugged on his hand, and he let himself be guided by her excitement—even influenced by it, although she didn’t need to know it. Derek was a musician, he understood how art worked; he was always captivated by the way music could evoke different emotions in people. And as he watched Casey’s eyes analyze each painting inside that gallery with such rigor, he thought that colorful strokes in a blank canvas were capable of doing the same. 

He could feel her hand squeezing his gently each time she talked about a new painting, extracting narratives and emotions he wouldn’t have been able to notice with his untrained eyes. But her voice was so deeply filled with passion and her eyes so enthralled with their vision that he wanted to understand it. He wanted to see it. He fathomed that was what Casey did. She always found beauty where he could only see chaos.

Whether it was her enthusiasm or the number of places and work-of-arts competing for her attention, she didn’t even flinch when he casually wrapped an arm around her shoulders; in fact, he was surprised to feel her arm brushing his back to rest her hand on his waist. She only moved away when they reached a chapel, where she spent a considerable amount of time admiring the architecture and its beauty. 

He swiftly grabbed her hand again when they made their way to the initial point; the sun was still high in the sky, casting a golden light around the room as she stopped in the center of the place and looked up. 

Completely bathed in sunlight and forced to close her eyes due to the brightness, she smiled. Derek allowed his eyes to trace every line of her face, unconsciously leaning closer to her as he did. He noticed the slightest traces of body glitter near her jaw and smiled; it seemed like an ironic representation of their story. From the start, she was light and warmth—a flicker of fire that was trying to reach his figure hidden in the shadows. Now they were both golden, there was nothing he could do.

“This is so beautiful,” she said to no one in particular, inhaling air before lowering her head and opening her eyes to him with a smile. He was momentarily stunned by the shade of blue of her eyes under the sun. “ _Please_ , don’t say ‘yeah, it is’.”

He put a hand to his chest, faking incredulity. “Do you _really think_ I’d resort to cliches?”

"I don't know, Derek. I have no idea what you say to girls when you go on dates."

"You'll have an idea by the end of the day," he affirmed with a smirk, motioning with his chin for her to accompany him as he started to walk towards the exit. 

"Wait, we're going somewhere else?"

"Of course, you thought that was it? Are you really _that_ impressed that I don’t even have to try?"

“Yes, I’d marry you right now,” she jeered. 

“I don’t think I’m ready for that step yet, babe.”

She snorted, either accustomed to the pet name or determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing her complain about it. He was satisfied with both options. 

Confidence— _almost_ —fully restored, he led her towards a hidden gem he had found with the help of a friend. His teammate Ian was a compulsive reader and, being raised in the capital, knew its places and charms better than anyone else. Derek turned to him when the idea of a date crossed his mind and the man didn’t disappoint him. 

Hidden amongst old buildings that had been turned into souvenir shops, there was an apparent small construction made out of stone walls with an obsolete wooden door, behind which laid hidden an exquisite library cafe. Even Derek, who thought books to be a complete waste of time— _movies_ existed, for Christ’s sake!—was instantly drawn by the intimate and cozy atmosphere of the place. Its antique furniture and architecture almost made it feel like he would find ancient dusty spellbooks on the shelves. 

“How did you know about this place?” Casey asked, her eyes sweeping the place with awe. 

“I can’t just reveal my secrets, now, can I?”

She beamed at him, completely unaware of the fact that she was closer to breaking all his defenses. There were too many cracks already. Her smile faltered a moment later as she said, “But you’re going to be bored.”

“Eh, I’ll go get us a table and you can check everything out.”

She nodded eagerly, letting go of his hand to run to the first shelf on their left. He smiled to himself, walking to the far end of the room, where a few tables had been placed near the counter. Derek ordered a coffee for himself, a tea for Casey and he couldn’t resist a piece of lemon tart that was begging to be devoured. It _had_ been two hours since his last meal, after all. It had been too long already, right? 

He ate quietly as he observed her from a distance. He knew she loved books, but he had never seen her inside a library before, except for the one on campus. There weren’t as many interesting books there. And there was something incredibly alluring and adorable about how she looked so immersed in a different dimension as she slid her fingertips across the spine of a book before grabbing it with the utmost caution, as if she could tear it apart with a sudden movement. Then her eyes would widen subtly as she flipped through the pages and, every now and then, she would smile at something. 

For a moment, Derek pictured that exact scenario repeating itself consistently: him accompanying her to the library every other week, watching as she found magic amongst a couple of words written down by some old dude who had probably been dead for at least two centuries. It didn’t sound like a bad way to spend his afternoons. 

She snapped her head up abruptly, as if sensing his gaze on her— _was he being creepy?_ —and their eyes locked across the room. To cover up his inability to stop staring, he grabbed her tea and raised it in the air. Casey placed the book back in its place on the shelf and walked to the table. Derek pulled the chair that was next to him, which made her raise her eyebrows, but sit down without questions.

“Were you _eating_ again?” she asked, noticing his plate as she reached out to grab her cup. 

“I was hungry.”

“ _How_?”

Derek shrugged, offering her a grin before she sipped on her tea. Suddenly she started babbling about the books she had found, unwitting and unannounced, as if they were book club partners who regularly discussed classic literature. He couldn’t say he was surprised—she _had_ done it countless times before,—but it was particularly wonderful to see how unaffected she was by the fact that they were on a date. Nothing had changed for her. She was still as comfortable and chatty around him as before—and her enthusiasm was a product of _his doings_. 

Naturally, their discussion progressed and addressed different subjects—things he could opine on, for the most part—and the more time that passed, the more Casey seemed carefree and relaxed. He didn’t even see the numbers changing on his watch, attention fully turned to her and easy smiles spreading on his lips as if he had no control over his muscles anymore. 

It was almost six when he suggested they walked around before going back to the hotel and Casey’s hand slipped into his without him needing to ask her. They passed a popcorn stand on their way to the canal that crossed the city and Casey commented on his insatiable hunger one more time—it wasn’t his fault his body was begging for the food he hadn’t given it the night before.

The sky was a beautiful mess of colors ready to greet the night when she leaned into his side and he instinctively draped one arm around her shoulders. He almost laughed at the scenario, imagining himself as the main character of one of those chick flicks he despised so much. But maybe cliches weren’t so bad; maybe the people who made those movies were onto something. 

He gently guided her towards the edge of the sidewalk to sit by the canal. “I thought you said you weren’t hungry,” he said upon seeing Casey chewing popcorn. “I don’t share food, you know that.”

“If we’re committing, you have to share your food with me.”

By that logic he should be able to kiss her, but determined to end that night peacefully, he pushed the thought to the back of his mind. Casey scooted closer, grabbing another mouthful of popcorn; when he squinted his eyes at her, she picked one single kernel and tossed it at him. Derek easily caught it in his mouth, making her chuckle lightly. She steered back to add some distance between them and tossed another one—he caught it again. 

"How are you so good at everything?” she mused aloud, moving closer to him again. “It's frustrating."

He smirked at her, ego boosted as she ate her popcorn with an expression that told him how little she had thought about her words before saying them aloud and how much she regretted them. She fixed her eyes on the clear water before them. 

“I can’t believe you just admitted it.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” 

"Too late. I'll remind you about it for eternity now. Though I'm not sure I'll need to do it, you'll never be able to forget this day."

She rolled her eyes, although the corners of her mouth quivered up slightly. 

“Are you so impressed that you’re speechless?”

Casey scoffed. "Impressed isn't the word I'd apply in this situation."

He nodded quietly, placing the pack of popcorn aside to turn to her. “At least admit the date was... spectacular.” 

She smiled, eyes still away from his; for a second, she looked sheepish. Not the usual kind of embarrassment he was used to seeing in her, provoked by his teasing or her own clumsiness, but the kind of shyness he only saw in other girls whenever he was flirting with them. _Never_ in Casey. 

Hope bloomed inside him like a phantom weight clutching at his heart, along with a deep feeling of powerlessness; he was truly at the mercy of her actions. She had no idea that he could actually _feel himself_ getting lost in her, falling deeper and deeper into the abyss with no way of clambering out. 

“I had fun,” she admitted.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Casey chuckled, finally turning to him. "Fine," she said, rolling her eyes.

"No, not _fine_. Say it."

"Der- _ek_."

He shook his head, unfazed. "Say it."

"Do you just force your dates to do it? Is that how you got your fame as a ‘master of dates’ or whatever you call yourself?"

"No, I never have to force the words out of them. It comes out naturally."

Casey rolled her eyes again, adding as much sarcasm as she could to her reply, "It was spectacular."

He offered her a sardonic smile. "Thank you. It must've been hard for you to say that."

"Painful,” she retorted, drifting her eyes away from him again. “Is that what you usually do?”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged, carefully choosing her words before she answered with another question, “Do you just design perfect dates based on what you think the other person will like?” She placed both her hands on the ground beside her, craning her neck to look at him. “Because then you’re not being yourself. And you’re not having fun.”

Derek opened his mouth to answer her, but nothing came out as her words echoed inside his mind. He had never given it much thought before, but that was an accurate evaluation of his usual course of action. Most of the time—or at least when he _actually_ dated girls instead of simply hooking up—he planned dates that would appease _them_. It didn’t matter if he had fun, as long as he succeeded in charming them; it was the easiest way to get to his goal. 

He did the same with Casey, but the difference was that that particular date, according to his personal taste, should by far be the worst one he had ever dared to go on. Only it wasn’t. He had never had as much fun surrounded by things that he hated, except _her_. She made him willing to learn how to love those things.

“Wow, I actually got you speechless,” she jeered, laughing lightly. “Are you having an existential crisis right now? Is it insensitive of me to film this?”

He rolled his eyes, resting his hand on the ground behind hers. “I liked the part with the food.”

She smiled. “So you’re saying you _had_ fun?”

“I’m saying this city isn’t so bad,” he replied, looking off into the distance. The twilight was starting to fade, its colors overshadowed by the grayness of the sky. “And I can appreciate art."

“Oh, no. Maybe we should take it easy,” she mocked, and he returned his attention to her with a curious look. “I’m not ready for sensitive Derek.”

He smirked amusedly, surprised to see her smirking back at him. The gesture didn’t have nearly the same smugness as his, but it was taunting enough to force himself to hold back the urge to touch her. He wondered if she noticed how close they were now, because he was extremely aware of her breath ghosting over his face. 

“Good,” he said, “because he doesn’t exist.” 

Her smirk was replaced by a sarcastic smile and he was able to stare at her lips when she turned her head to watch the calming water again. He simply couldn’t stop thinking about how real everything felt; the sensation had been looming over him all day—maybe even before that afternoon—but it seemed to enhance by the second. It was their typical bickering, but the flirtatious undertone was there; usually, he was the only one doing it, but he was positively sure that she was corresponding. 

“I don’t know,” she insisted, “you can be sensitive when you want to. This was a challenge for you, but you made a real effort.”

“Of course I made a real effort,” he said smugly, “I wanted you to bow to me.”

She shook her head. Her voice was softer and genuine when she said, “No, it’s different... sometimes you forget to pretend like you don’t care about anything or anyone at all and... you’re sweet.”

Derek didn’t know what to do with that information. He was sure Casey meant it as a compliment, but it felt oddly weird to be called sweet. He _wasn’t_ sweet. His first instinct, something he had taught himself to do over the years, was to deny the implicit idea that he cared about her before even addressing the compliment. But upon remembering that he was freed from that kind of control over his own actions and words, he relaxed.

“I’m not sweet.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, meeting his gaze, “I won’t tell anyone.”

He held her gaze with a brazen stare, not even bothering to insist on a denial. Flashes of a kiss ran through his mind and he entertained himself by imagining what her reaction would be to him leaning in just enough to taste her lips again. 

Casey’s lips twitched up, a slight blush tinging her cheeks, and he couldn’t help a smile of his own as he questioned himself whether she could remember how she had told him she liked it when he smiled. Because he was happy now. He was so fucking happy he could burst.

“Wait,” she said suddenly, breaking that little moment to pull her phone out of her purse. He had to shake his head to step out of his trance, running a palm down his face. “I need proof this happened.”

She positioned her phone in front of him to take a picture, but he snatched it out of her hands in a sudden movement and turned it towards her. “Der- _ek_!” she complained in the middle of a laugh, covering the camera of her phone with her hand.

“What?” he said, grabbing her wrist to lower it to the ground. “ _I_ need proof that you admitted I’m the best at everything.”

She laughed harder, looking away from him. He snapped a few pictures of her profile until she turned to swat at his arm. “I never told you’re the best,” she countered.

“No need to disclaim it,” he said, tugging on her wrist to make her lean into his side.

Still laughing, she tried to chide him, “What are you doing?” 

He put one arm around her and positioned the phone in front of them, but Casey hid her face in his chest the moment he clicked the button to take a picture. 

“Stop it,” she told him, her smile perceptible in her voice as she playfully smacked his chest with her hand. 

He held the side of her head and planted an obnoxiously loud kiss on the top of it to tease her, which made her jerk away from him with another laugh. He was intoxicated by it by now, his lips quirking up on their own. 

“You’re insufferable, Derek.”

"I love you too, babe," he quipped, feeling awfully nervous a second later. He wasn't sure whether he had subconsciously projected his feelings out disguised as sarcasm or acted on reflex. It was almost unfair how oblivious she was to the pandemonium happening inside of him as he tried his best to act casual, sending the photos he had taken to his own phone. 

She cleared her throat— _was_ she oblivious? He subtly took a deep breath. 

“What are you doing with my phone?”

“Wait,” he said, but she moved closer to watch over his shoulder as he used their photo to change her wallpaper. “Now you have a new lockscreen!” he announced with mocking enthusiasm.

“What? I have to have _you_ as my lockscreen?” she echoed in a tone of disbelief, jerking away when he turned to look at her.

“I know, try not to get too distracted when you look at it.” 

“If I have to do it, so do you,” she said, holding her palm up in the air. 

He smirked and touched her hand with his, as if high-fiving her. “Dream on.”

“Your phone,” she insisted menacingly. “ _Now_.”

Derek glanced at her defyingly, entertaining a thought. “Okay. But we have to find a compromise.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “A _compromise_?”

“Yes,” he agreed, returning her phone. “I just took you on the best date of your life, the least you can do is pay me back. Then we’re even and we both walk around with this ridiculous wallpaper.”

“Mhmm,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes. “In what way should I embarrass myself?”

He smirked instantly, tapping his index finger against his own lips. Casey stared at him with her eyebrows raised, as though pressing him to answer her. It took her a moment to understand his signal, and when she did, her eyes widened slightly and she shook her head.

“I’m not kissing you.”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

Obviously expecting some sort of persistence, she cocked her eyebrows. He grabbed the pack of popcorn by his side and ate what was left of it, certain that his disdain would bother her and drive her to give in. 

“This is manipulation,” she declared after a moment.

He glanced at her with a sardonic look. “That’s a bit overdramatic, don’t you think?” 

She took a deep breath, seemingly annoyed at him, and quickly looked around to assess the few people that walked or rode their bikes around them before leaning in and abruptly pressing her mouth to his. He didn’t even have the chance to close his eyes, because suddenly she was moving away. 

“There,” she said, extending her hand to him again.

Derek looked at it for a moment and then dragged his eyes back to hers with a caustic sneer, shaking his head. Casey was already casting him a warning look, but it only encouraged him. That situation was ridiculous and they both knew it; the issue wasn’t serious and she could just as easily change her wallpaper if she wanted to. But she kissed him anyway. And he wanted to see how far she would go under the pretext of being manipulated. 

“That wasn’t a kiss,” he claimed, sliding his thumb over his mouth to wipe off her lip gloss. Her eyes accompanied the movement, only shying away when he tried to taste the flavor on his upper lip with the tip of his tongue. "Is this cherry?”

The odd question made her look back at him with a frown. "What?" 

“I like the other one,” he continued, dismissing her question, “but this is nice too.”

Casey gasped as though he had just insulted her, her skin looking redder the longer she stared at him. 

“Anyway,” he resumed, shaking his head, “if you’re going to do it, do it already.” 

She gritted her teeth, dropping her eyes to his mouth again, weighing her options. It took him a laudable amount of self-control to not end her dilemma and do it himself. His lips were tingling in anticipation, hands itching to pull her onto his lap and ignore every PDA rule he had set for himself in the past. It wasn't like he had been following them, anyway. 

Derek kept his eyes fixed on hers, just in case she decided to look up at him, which she did a moment later. He could swear he saw the glow of something remarkably close to yearning in the middle of the clear apprehension that marred the azure of her eyes. 

Casey moved her hand on the ground to bend forward, and it dawned on him that he had never been in that position before. Of course he enjoyed girls who initiated kisses, but it wasn’t the same as deliberately waiting for someone else to make a move; it made him wonder if that was how girls felt when he approached them; if their pulses quickened and their mouths felt suddenly dry; if they felt like crossing the distance in a second to end the agony.

He licked his lips involuntarily, which didn’t go unnoticed by Casey’s eyes. She nodded very subtly, as if having a mental conversation with herself, and sealed his lips with hers again. She let it linger this time, and Derek waited exactly four seconds before he decided he couldn’t endure that torture and led his hand to touch the back of her neck to pull her closer to him. 

Casey responded by parting her lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss in a slow, melodic dance that was bound to destroy him only to rebuild him once again. Once again, he could feel her slipping away from reason and listening to her own instincts when her hand found his face, gently drawing him towards her, inviting him to lose himself in her inebriating taste. She was right about his ego, it was astronomical; but he was also right about her hypocrisy—she enjoyed it as much as he did. He was willing to bet that she craved it as well. 

A gentle, but cold breeze caressed their skins and they both trembled; he wasn't sure _his_ reaction had much to do with the wind, however. He heard a low sound somewhere around them, taking a few seconds to realize it was his phone. He decided to ignore it, even leaning closer to Casey as he tangled his fingers in her hair; only the sound repeated itself twice and she broke the kiss immediately, moving away from him in a gentle movement.

She withdrew her hand from his face a moment later and he let his own hand drop to the ground, putting on his best smirk to regain composure before she raised her eyes to his.

“Slightly better,” he commented, to which she rolled her eyes. She was already flustered, but he admired her refusal to be intimidated as she stuck her nose in the air and stared at him through her embarrassment. 

Derek grabbed his phone with one hand while the other removed the remnants of her lip gloss from his lips again. He was gradually becoming obsessed with fruity flavors on his mouth mixed with hers. 

**_Will:_ ** _heyy where the fuck r u???_

 **_Will:_ ** _theres plenty of time to bone in kingston we have to leave in 30_

 **_Pete:_ ** _hellooo this is will GET YOUR ASSES HERE ASAP_

“Of course it's Will,” he murmured, glancing at Casey. “We have to get back.”

"Oh, shoot," she said, standing up to her feet with impressive speed. “I can’t believe I lost track of time.”

Derek hummed in agreement, grabbing his popcorn to rise up as well. “I should have warned you,” he said in fake seriousness, “it’s some kind of side effect of being around me. You'd be surprised by the number of times I've had people staying up all night with me.”

“You know, I take back the sweet thing,” Casey retorted, interlocking their fingers to practically force him to move forward. “You’re an ass.”

“Well, _excuse me_ for saying something _completely_ innocent that _you_ interpreted as something dirty. Get your mind out of the gutter, babe.”

“Asshole.”

Derek chuckled, letting go of her hand to pull his phone out of his pocket, unlock it and offer it to her. She looked at him inquisitively. “I'm a man of my word,” he said.

The corners of her mouth curled up and she accepted his phone, looking for his gallery to change his wallpaper as they walked side by side. Derek wrapped one arm around her shoulders, gently rubbing her arm to warm her up. 

“Derek,” she called when she was finished, keeping his phone inside her hands. 

“What?”

“How did you know where to take me?”

“Like I said, you’re very predictable.”

She turned her head partially to the side, tilting her chin up to be able to look up at him, but he kept his eyes ahead. “I think you actually paid attention to what I said. Did you plan this?”

He snorted. “Sure, whatever makes you sleep at night,” he said, too affectionately for it to sound like a sarcastic remark.

Casey also turned her eyes to the path ahead, but looped her arm around his waist with a low chuckle. He became strangely aware of the lightness he felt and had been feeling for the past two days; it seemed dreadfully ironic that the moment that most required him to act, being constantly with Casey around his friends, was the moment when he freed himself from disguises. Casey accused him of not being himself just minutes before, but he had never been as real or as true to his essence than by her side, stripped off of lies and masks.

It should worry him, finding out that the old cynical Derek he knew so well was nothing but a self-made figure who protected him from the outside world; that he genuinely loved his agitated, adrenaline-filled life, but rejoiced in the serenity and calmness of a conversation under a colorful sky; that he— _maybe_ —could be sweet in _very rare_ occasions, even if he wasn’t ready for other people to know it. But it didn’t worry him at all. It felt like finally seeing things from Casey’s perspective, grasping for new interpretations of an old narrative, seeing beauty amidst the chaos.

He wanted to stay in that place, stuck in a make-believe that satisfied his wishes. Glancing upwards, he sighed quietly at the picturesque sky, almost like a goodbye to the city he was leaving behind, wishing Kingston would be as kind to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I also want to thank everyone who was kind enough to spare a moment of their time to leave me a comment in the previous chapter. I honestly didn't expect to have people excited and looking forward to more chapters, so it was really surprising to read such lovely words. Thank you so, so much ❤️
> 
> Have a lovely day!


	11. Of Knights and Armors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there ❤️
> 
> I just want to start by thanking all of you for your patience and understanding! I wanted to be more consistent with the uploads, but work has been keeping me from dedicating enough time to going over the chapters and I don't like to post without being sure everything's exactly how I planned. But anyway, here's a new chapter (a little longer than normal, sorry). Thank you so much and enjoy your reading!

_“The way you play your game drives me insane_

_'Cause you tell me that you need me_

_You come and please me_

_And then again I'm hoping in vain”_

_(When We Do It - Damian Lynn)_

Casey 

Her fingertip slid absentmindedly across her phone screen, stopping when it reached Derek’s face. She was positively sure that she could rebuild the image in her mind if she closed her eyes after staring at it for such a long time—and it had been happening too frequently, sometimes without her even noticing it until a notification covered the screen and she forced herself to snap out of that unhealthy, nearly obsessive ritual. 

She hadn’t changed the wallpaper yet, and neither had Derek; while he used it for the sole purpose of reminding her that she had kissed him for it— _seriously, what is wrong with her?_ —she claimed it was a good addition to their act, when in reality she simply loved that picture. It wasn’t only about the memories it brought, from the kiss that followed that moment to the surreality of Derek’s words and actions towards her that weekend, but also about the fact that that was the only picture they had together. 

Every time she looked at it, she paid attention to the details; she stared at it like one of those paintings he took her to see, each time attributing a different emotion to it and _feeling_. Because she always revisited the moment, remembering the wave of happiness and the sense of belonging—if they were a real couple, they would forever belong in that single moment. Her cheek pressed against his chest, her eyes closed due to the uncontrollable laughter; his arm around her, chin rested on top of her head and a smile lighting up his deep brown eyes. God, she loved that smile. She loved that picture and the smothering feeling of sheer blissfulness and _him_. Most of all, _him_.

Part of her wished they could have stayed in Ottawa, stuck inside that bubble that allowed her to use a fake relationship as an excuse to have him so close. It was pathetic and pitiful, but her heart craved the high, the adrenaline that his touches inflicted on her to the point where its only option was to beat ferociously against her chest, half-begging for a freedom it didn’t really want. 

But the other part thought it was for the best, that going back home would somehow help her organize her thoughts and her feelings, because she was starting to question Derek’s behavior. As illogical as it seemed, when she stared into his eyes during those seconds that took her to kiss him, she believed there was a deep-rooted part of their souls that fully connected; that she was the recipient of all his affection like he was of hers.

It was in his actions first, how he took her to see places he would never step into otherwise and which she was sure he had planned beforehand; then it was in the way he kept throwing glances at her whenever she stopped to appreciate a painting, probably thinking she wasn’t aware of it when she felt her heart palpitating all the while; and then it was in his smile, how it appeared on his lips after _she_ smiled like it was an inevitable reaction and he was overwhelmed by the same euphoric warmth that blossomed within her.

Her heart nearly stopped when he suddenly said “ _I love you too, babe_ _._ ” She knew it was sarcasm—Derek’s second language,—a simply witty remark, but hearing those words leave his mouth ignited a new feeling in the pit of her stomach, something that resembled a confusing mix of fear and wistfulness. She _wanted_ it, but it scared her. This fear dragged out for the days that followed, caused her to beg for the oblivion of sleep at night, because in her mind, where there should be dreams was only a tussle of conflicting thoughts. 

It was gradually becoming harder to hide her apprehension from Derek. She thought that whatever happened in Ottawa would be over as soon as they went back to Kingston and their old lives; she even remembered musing on it when they made their way back to the hotel that night, _dreading_ it. But he was more than invested in his challenge to perfect his role of devoting boyfriend when in public. He hadn’t tried to kiss her or take her out on dates, but she felt the change in the way he looked at her, the way his words became more and more affectionate even with layers of sarcasm coating it, or the way his touches lingered for far too long when they were around friends and he placed his hand on her knee like it belonged there. The more she tried to ignore these small things, the more evident they seemed. 

When he was away, she cogitated putting a stop to the relationship: act out of cowardice and hide behind her fear; but when he was around, there was only... him. Nothing else besides a small warning voice in the back of her head being ignored by her heart. She had mulled over calling Emily numerous times because dealing with those feelings by herself was slowly driving her to madness, but after receiving a few excited texts from her best friend asking about the festival, she gave up. She only mustered up the courage to dial her number on a Wednesday afternoon, in between classes, sitting in her bed in her empty dorm.

"You have to start texting me back!" was Emily’s greeting upon answering the phone.

"I know, I'm sorry! This week was a little busy, but I'm calling you _now_!" she pointed out with excessive enthusiasm.

"You're on thin ice," she joked. "How was it?"

"Surprisingly passable."

"Spill. If you can remember anything, that is," she added in a mischievous tone that made Casey instantly blush.

Waking up next to Derek—or better yet, _entangled_ in him—had almost made her believe she _had_ indeed forgotten everything she had done the night before. The painful headache was the first thing she noticed, and then her body pressed against something warm and solid; maybe it was the disorientation caused by her first hangover, but she didn’t even consider it was Derek until he spoke up. 

Naturally, still engulfed in a haze of blurred and faint memories of music, beer and Derek, and taking notice of their clothes—or the lack thereof,—she was faced with the mortifying conclusion that they had had sex. _Of course_ Derek would seize the opportunity to mess with her mind and _of course_ she would blush after realizing that she had essentially admitted she would have been able to cross that line with him. _Would she?_ Whenever she thought about it, she could barely handle the embarrassment. But his teasing was somewhat helpful, as it gradually awakened her every memory from the night before. 

“Very funny,” she replied sarcastically. “But I have to admit the beer _did_ make it better.”

Emily chuckled. "Uh-oh, what did drunk Casey do?" 

"Mostly danced and told my ex to fuck off."

" _Hell yes,_ fuck that creep,” she celebrated. “Send all my love to drunk Casey. It’s _so_ satisfying to hear that. Did he try anything?"

“No, he was just being an ass. I thought about punching him, but I was too drunk for that,” she mentioned, which made Emily giggle comically. “Derek came to help and then they started to fight and it was... horrible, really.”

“I’m more inclined towards _hot_ , but to each their own,” she countered cheekily. 

"Emily!"

“What? I know it’s wrong, but not saying it won’t make it _not_ true!” She chuckled again, and Casey felt herself mimicking her involuntarily. She couldn’t be a hypocrite and deny that behind the fear of seeing Derek get hurt, there was a strange appeal—and she _hated_ it because she despised violence—in seeing him fight someone that hurt her. 

Casey sighed quietly, closing her eyes as she let her back collide against the mattress of her bed. “I’m scared.”

“I doubt Truman will try to get close to you again.”

“No, it’s not that.” She waited a few seconds, almost expecting her best friend to interrupt her, for there was still some part of her that begged her to keep her doubts to herself. Emily had already expressed her opinions about her relationship with Derek and she wondered if her decision to confide in her was a subconscious wish to be validated. “It’s Derek. He’s just... doing nice things and saying nice things and taking me out on perfect dates... and sometimes..." She opened her eyes to the ceiling, letting out another long sigh. 

“Sometimes...?"

Her heart was beating unsteadily against her ribs now, aware that by ending that sentence, she would be exposing herself. “Sometimes I forget it’s not real.”

Emily didn’t reply immediately, which Casey interpreted as a sign that she was choosing her next words carefully. Or simply shocked. Maybe both. 

“Em?” she pressed, heart clenching inside her chest with agonizing uneasiness.

“Yeah, sorry,” Emily replied, voice slightly lower than before. “I had to move to my room, Sam was doing that thing where he pretends to study but is listening to every word I say. So... there’s so much to unpack here!” she exclaimed, even adding an excited little scream. 

Regret washed over Casey immediately; it dawned on her that despite needing to unload, she wasn't ready to discuss or dive into her feelings any more than she had already done for the last couple of days. Those oscillating emotions would eventually drive her insane. She barely had any time to get used to the word ‘love’; it was too intimate, too meaningful to be thrown around callously. If Derek wouldn’t get to hear it from her, then no one else should. 

“I shouldn’t have called.”

“No, Case, wait!” Emily hastened to say, probably predicting she would try to end the call. “You can trust me. I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to, okay? I’ll just listen.”

Casey breathed in and rolled onto her side, adjusting the phone on her ear. Slowly letting the air out, she closed her eyes and waited a few seconds. “I know him, Em. _Everything_ there is to know about him... I know. I can tell when he’s going to say something stupid or what he’s feeling just by the tone of his voice. But now it seems like... like there’s this other side he never let me see before. And I don’t know this Derek, I can’t predict what he’s going to say or do, I don’t know if he’s...”

“Real?”

Casey swallowed. “Yeah. He planned a freaking date, Emily. Like... way before we went to Ottawa. There’s no way he knew one of the places we visited, he’s never been there.”

Emily let out a soft, “Mhmm.” Casey could almost see her biting her own tongue in order to refrain herself from speaking. 

“You can say something.”

“Oh, thank God.” She let out a relieved sigh that made Casey’s lips twitch upwards against her will. “It makes sense to me,” she said, softly. “That it scares you. You feel safe around the Derek that you know, that’s your comfort zone. You got used to him, you can control how you’re going to react to whatever he’s saying or doing. The new one is scary because you never know what’s coming your way, that makes you lose control over your own feelings.” 

Emily paused for a moment and Casey had the feeling that she was giving her an opportunity to deny it. Even if Casey wanted to, she knew it was pointless to refute the truth. She was able to protect herself—even managed to fool herself for years regarding her feelings—around the old Derek. If he sounded flirtier than usual, if he got too close, if he taunted her with his smirks, it was only a strategy to get under her skin. She blamed it on his smugness, never dared to break the armor she put on the moment she feared that boy could make a mess out of her life. 

“The thing is... this is the same Derek you’ve known all your life,” Emily continued. Her voice had a motherly tone to it, one she associated with Nora whenever she was advising her. “Sure, he’s changed a bit, but then so have _you_. He’s always been there for you, he’s always done nice things, now it’s just more obvious. You’ve gotten a lot closer, Case. He feels more comfortable around you. And you’re just seeing him in a different light, letting yourself... well, _feel_. And I get it, it’s fucking scary.”

Casey nodded at the nothingness, opening her eyes to the wall next to her bed. “Yeah,” she whispered.

“I think you have your answer right there,” Emily said. “Who commits to a fake relationship like that? He’s _planning dates_ and I’m guessing it’s not for show, unless your friends are tagging along. Do you really think Derek would do that to... I don’t know, mess with your head?”

“ _No_ , of course not. But there’s no way that he... I know that he’s... God, I can’t tell you that,” she said, the embarrassment bringing a flush to her face. 

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“I’m not worried you’re going to tell someone! It’s just... embarrassing.”

“This is a safe space,” she countered lightheartedly. “No judging here. And I have a feeling your idea of embarrassing is a minor inconvenience for me at most.”

Casey turned on her back again, propping herself up with her elbows to sit on the bed. She reached out to touch her burning cheeks with the back of her free hand. “I know he’s attracted to me,” she confessed in a timid whisper. “The way he kisses me... and the way he looks at me when we’re close.” Her eyes closed involuntarily, mind reliving the bliss and the desire that overwhelmed her body when he kissed her that night in Ottawa. A helpless sigh escaped her mouth as she remembered his cold fingers pressed against her lower back, the passion in his every touch and move. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind crossing more lines. That’s what he’s always done, isn’t it?”

“Whoa, wait a sec.” Emily’s tone had changed drastically, the softness twisting into disbelief. “Are you telling me you think he’s doing all of that to _hook up_ with you? Like you’re someone he met at the bar and he’ll never see again? You _really_ think Derek would do that to you?”

Casey grimaced; in Emily’s words, her theory made her feel repulsed. 

“Are you serious right now?”

“Fuck, I—” Casey groaned under her breath, noticing a slight burn behind her eyes. _Am I crying?_ “That’s not what I meant, I’m just confused. I don’t know where the line is anymore.”

Emily sighed. “Look, I get it. You’re just coming up with excuses to stay in denial. But don’t do that, Case. You’re going to end up shutting him out.”

“But I don’t want it.” She was surprised to hear the pain in her own voice, stricken with the tears she was holding back. It seemed like an overreaction and she felt instantly pathetic, but there was a weight pressed against her chest, a feeling of impending doom. “I don’t want to feel it.”

“Why is it such a bad thing? To feel?”

There wasn't a correct answer to that question. Casey’s reluctance was rooted in a series of fears, from accepting Derek cared about her but doubting he would ever _want_ her like she wanted him, to facing her family and the condemnation of her feelings. 

Emily let out a small chuckle. “Hey, you know what I just realized? Remember how you used to dream about the perfect guy in high school and he was always some kind of knight in shining armor who would pick up fights and do all those romantic things for you? I mean, _holy shit_ , who would’ve thought Derek would fit the category?”

Casey wasn’t able to answer her, because Ivy entered the room that exact moment, flashing her a sweet smile and mouthing a "Hey." She ended the call after telling Emily she couldn’t continue the conversation, but her words kept roaming around Casey’s brain and gnawing at her heart. 

Her juvenile idealization of a perfect guy always consisted of the total opposite of Derek—or rather of what she _thought_ was the opposite of who he was. She hadn't considered Derek had an armor of his own, a shell filled with cracks that occasionally allowed her a peek at what was really inside. Because the fact was that he was, in his own way, exactly who she had always pictured for herself. He was sweet, albeit while trying to hide it with sarcasm and smirks; he respected her unconditionally and listened to her; he hated tears, but stayed around for them and in his incapacity to comfort her, he made her laugh instead. Most of those traits had always been there, exposed to her in the midst of his teasing and playing, and she chose to ignore it.

“I’m _never_ peeing in that restroom again,” Will’s voice startled Casey back into reality. She took a last look at her lockscreen and shut her phone off before Will took the chair next to her in the sitting area of the arena. “ _Disgusting_.”

“What took you so long?” She looked around, only now noticing how many people had filled the seats that had been empty only ten minutes ago. 

Derek’s team was playing against the Ridgebacks tonight, and she and Will were naturally there to show support. It had been quite some time since she watched one of his games, but now that they were supposedly dating, she thought it would be appropriate to start a new habit. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t pee faster,” he quipped. 

Casey rolled her eyes, giving in to a smile. She spotted a few familiar faces from Queen’s in the nearby seats, some even wearing matching outfits with the team’s colors. Will pointed at a banner with a spelling mistake, sharing a laugh with Casey, when she did a double-take at someone strangely similar to—

“Mom?” It was barely a whisper; Will was still laughing at the banner, completely unaware of her sudden inner meltdown as she spotted her entire family making their way to where they were sitting now. “Shit.”

Casey was almost sure she hadn’t mentioned the game to their family, and neither had Derek, since none of them were willing to risk being debunked by them or their friends. Her anxiety crept in, coursing through her body like tiny electric shocks that made her tremble and her heart speed up. She was caught in the crossfire, completely defenseless—if Will mentioned her relationship with Derek, Nora might think she had been lying and hiding it from her; if any member of her family mentioned the fact that Derek was her step-brother, Will would most likely be driven away and tell every single one of their friends. 

Casey tried to normalize her breathing when Will turned his head to her with an inquisitive look, asking, “What’s wrong, love?” He followed her gaze to see Nora waving at her from a distance. “Do you know them?” 

She swallowed, meeting his eyes with a forced smile. “Yeah, that’s my mom.” 

Will opened his mouth excitedly. “Oh, that’s so sweet! They came to see Derek playing?”

“Mhmm.”

“Casey!” Nora exclaimed, and she stood up to hug her mother, praying that she hadn’t noticed how her body was shuddering. “It’s so good to see you here!”

“ _Hey_." She said, extending the word a little too much. “What are you doing here?”

Marti approached to hug her by the waist and Casey corresponded, staring wide-eyed at Lizzie. She seemed strangely apprehensive by Edwin’s side, who was admiring the rink below. 

“We wanted to surprise you,” George answered. “You didn’t mention the match when we talked last week,” he said. “It’s a good thing I’m always checking the schedule on their website.”

“That’s... _great_ ,” she agreed, her voice sounding excessively enthusiastic. “Derek will be happy to see you guys here... to support him. Um... where's Simon?”

"You know Brenda, from down the street?" Nora asked. "She's babysitting now, such a nice girl."

Casey nodded, forcing a smile. She glanced at Lizzie again, who cast her an unreadable look; Casey tipped her chin up subtly to question her behavior, but Nora diverted her attention when she moved to offer her hand to Will, who, as she only then noticed, was standing by her side. 

“Is that him?” Nora asked excitedly, shaking Will’s hand.

Casey raised her eyebrows. “Who?” 

“Your boyfriend.”

It took her an insurmountable amount of self-control not to collapse on the floor, choosing to understand her mother’s question before reacting instead.

“I recognized your roommate just by the entrance,” she mentioned, “Sarah.”

Sarah usually watched the games held in Kingston with her girlfriend, since they both enjoyed hockey, and she had mentioned she would be there tonight, but Casey hadn't seen her yet. Now she regretted presenting her roommates to her mother during a video call one year ago; to be fair, Ivy simply introduced herself and practically forced Sarah to do the same. 

“I thought you’d be sitting with her, but she said you came with your boyfriend,” she explained, drifting her eyes to Will again.

“Um..." Casey swallowed, locking eyes with Lizzie again; now her semblance made more sense. “Yeah,” she blurted out, grasping for the only solution she found, “that’s him. This is Will.”

She finally looked up at Will, who turned his head to stare back at her with a pointed look that wouldn’t be noticeable for anyone else, but promised her a very well deserved lecture afterwards. He opened a broad smile that she would have found comical in any other situation, and cleared his throat when he looked back at Nora.

Casey had to bite her own tongue to prevent herself from bursting into laughter when Will’s sweet and almost feminine voice was replaced by a deep, baritone as he said, “It’s nice to meet you.” 

Nora smiled. “You too. I’m Nora. This is my husb—”

“Mom, maybe we should leave the introductions for later,” Casey interrupted with a nervous chuckle. “The game is about to start.”

“Oh, yes.” She beamed, patting Will’s arm gently. “We should take our seats.”

Casey nodded, watching as Nora and George moved to sit behind them with Marti, while Lizzie and Edwin took the empty chairs next to her. Will grabbed her hand and pulled her down into her seat, leaning in to whisper-shout. “What the fuck, Casey?”

“I’m _so_ sorry,” she whined, squeezing his hand. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I'm flattered, but there's an _entire sexuality_ between us."

She nodded, turning her head to meet his eyes. "Just help me out this once. _Please._ "

“ _Why?_ Do your parents have something against Derek? They seem pretty fond of him, if you ask me.”

Casey almost winced at the word ‘parents’. She subtly eyed her mother and George over Will’s shoulders; they were chatting quietly, oblivious to that whispered conversation. Marti, however, had her eyes fixed on the back of Will’s head, eyebrows slightly raised.

“They are,” she confirmed, feeling her heart speeding up as she came up with another lie, “but they wouldn’t want me to date him. I can’t explain it right now, but _please_ help me.”

"I feel like an idiot."

“You don’t sound like one, I promise.”

Will held her gaze for a moment, musing over her request. Then he sighed and nodded in agreement, to which she smiled. 

“You’re a lifesaver.”

"Yeah, yeah, but you owe me one."

Casey acquiesced, letting go of his hand and adjusting herself in her seat. She noticed Lizzie moving closer to her to ask, "What the hell is going on?"

"Later,” she said, glancing at her sister. “Just please help me get them out of here before Derek leaves the rink."

Lizzie promptly agreed with her head, but there was a debauchery aspect to the smile she offered her. She would have questioned her if it wasn’t for Will's startled jump by her side; she turned to see that George had placed a hand on his shoulder.

"So you're a fan of hockey?" George asked in a friendly tone.

"Oh, yeah." Will said in his deep voice, and she couldn’t help a quiet chuckle this time. "Biggest fan."

Her chuckle came to a stop as she realized that a conversation between George and Will was the most dangerous out of all the possible interactions between the members of her family and _another_ fake boyfriend of hers. _Seriously, what the fuck is my life?_ Despite being curiously embarrassed about expressing his feelings _to_ Derek, George was a proud father and was constantly gushing about his son’s talent as an athlete to anyone who would listen. It was only a matter of time before he mentioned it to Will.

“...Reynolds, because that guy is a brick wall,” George was saying in that tone he always had when he talked about something he was passionate about. “Nothing could get through him. The whole time I was on the edge of my seat.”

“Absolutely!” Will agreed. Casey wondered if it was as obvious to everyone else as it was to her that he didn’t know a single thing about hockey. “What a guy. He was... something to see.”

“Um, excuse me,” Casey said, interrupting the discussion. She smiled at George and touched Will’s shoulder to make him turn to her. “Do you maybe want to buy something to eat?”

“Oh, my God, _yes_ ,” he said, almost desperate. “I’ll come back when the game starts.”

“Okay.”

He motioned to leave, but stopped with his hands on the arms of his chair. “Um..." He awkwardly leaned in and placed a kiss on Casey’s forehead. She couldn’t help but smile at the oddness of that situation; at least they would laugh about it someday. Hopefully.

“He seems really sweet,” Nora said as soon as he left, leaning forward to touch her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Casey turned to her, shrugging. “It’s... well, it’s too recent. I was going to tell you.” The lie left a bitter taste in her mouth; she hated having to hide things from her mother. 

“Well, he’s certainly handsome.”

“Hmm,” Marti intervened, “I don’t know, I’d pictured him a lot different.”

“What do you mean?” Casey asked, sensing a strange change to Marti’s behavior. 

The little girl smiled at her, shaking her head, but there was a hint of cynicism to her gesture. “I thought he would be... I don’t know, maybe taller? More fun. Into sports, maybe even a hockey player! It's more... like your type.”

“He _doesn’t_ seem to know much about hockey,” George mentioned with a light chuckle. 

“Um... yeah, he actually doesn’t,” Casey said, still puzzled by Marti’s demeanor, but drifting her eyes to George. “He’s just friends with the guys from the team.”

“Aw,” Nora placed one hand on George’s knee, “he was trying to impress you.”

“Sounds like a liar to me,” Marti concluded, crossing her arms and dragging her eyes to the rink. 

Casey brushed her suspicions about Marti for the sake of her sanity the moment the game started. She had brought a book with her, as usual, but she couldn’t read now—there was too much pressure to deal with it. So she chose to focus on Derek, which, she had to admit, was an impressive thing to behold; the way he moved so gracefully on the ice, how he calculated every action was astounding. 

For a few minutes, she was able to relax her body and bring her heartbeat to its normal rhythm, completely enthralled with Derek. She had no idea if his team was winning or what he was doing in general, but it was fascinating. 

“I think we should break up,” Will said playfully, startling her. She turned to see him eating the last bite of a hot dog and frowned, wondering when he had come back. “You don’t look at me the way you look at number nine,” he said dramatically, referring to Derek’s jersey number. 

“What?”

“You were smiling like an idiot. I’m doing a better job than you, frankly.”

She would have replied him with a scoff, but was interrupted by Lizzie’s hand on her arm. "I need to go to the restroom, come with me?" she asked, not even pausing to receive an answer before getting up and pulling Casey with her.

Lizzie made a beeline for the women's restroom, which, she noticed as the smell of urine reached her nostrils and made her grimace, didn't seem to be much different from Will's description of the men's restroom. Casey looked around, assessing the conserved blue doors of the five available cabins and the giant mirror that covered the extension of the adjacent wall, while Lizzie approached each door to push them open.

“Lizzie, what the hell are you doing?”

“Just making sure no one’s listening,” she explained, straightening her posture after checking the last door to approach Casey with her arms crossed and a stoic expression. “Did you lie to me?”

“What? No!”

She sighed, unfolding her arms and casting her a skeptic look. "Casey, that guy is _not_ your boyfriend."

Casey closed her eyes for a moment, repressing a curse. “No.”

"Then _why on Earth_ did you say he is?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. When Casey didn’t answer her, refraining herself from bringing her sister into that madness, Lizzie guessed, "It's Derek, isn't it?"

 _Perfect._ Casey walked slowly to the sink and leaned back against it, running a hand through her hair. “Yes,” she confirmed, but at the sight of Lizzie’s smile, added, “but it’s not what you think!”

“What do you mean? You just told me Derek’s your boyfriend, what am I supposed to think?" 

“I knew it!” Marti’s voice startled both of them.

Casey turned to see the girl standing next to the door with a smile on her face. She widened her eyes, feeling the signs of an anxiety attack beginning to bloom inside her. Her body seemed covered in a cold sweat, prickling from inside as her heart sped up. The last thing she needed was for Marti to be involved—or express her opinions about the matter. What was there for her to know, anyway? 

"Marti, _what are you—_ " she interrupted herself when the restroom door opened to two women wearing jerseys from the opposing team. Marti approached her step-sisters and Casey waited for the women to enter different stalls before finishing, “What are you doing here?” 

“Field research,” Marti replied, beaming at her. "I _knew_ there was something going on between you two!"

“What the—there’s _nothing_ going on,” she said frantically. In hindsight, a ‘this is a misunderstanding’ in a neutral tone would have sounded much more sincere—and less desperate. 

“Lizzie just said he’s your boyfriend.”

"He's _not_ my boyfriend!" She sighed, rubbing her palms across her face. "Oh, God."

"Okay, what the hell is going on?" Lizzie intervened.

"Truman transferred to Queen's."

"Oh, shit."

"What?" Marti asked, confused. “Why are we talking about Truman? He’s an ass.”

“Marti, language!” Casey reproached, to which the girl only shrugged. “Anyway,” she resumed, focusing on Lizzie, “he still thinks we’re dating and now we have to keep it up, at least for a while.”

“So... _everyone_ thinks you and Derek are together now?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Amazing,” Marti said, staring closely at Casey as though she was studying a work-of-art. 

"No, _not amazing_!” she retorted, realizing she had raised her voice again out of desperation when the two women got out of their stalls and gave her criticizing looks before moving to wash their hands on the sink. “This isn’t a joke, Marti,” she continued, lower. 

“I didn’t say it was a joke,” she replied in seriousness. “I think it’s about time.”

“Wha—Marti!” Casey covered her face, rubbing her palms across her cheeks to pretend the friction was the cause of her blush. She waited until the women left the restroom to continue. “Derek is my step-brother. Do you know what that means?”

“That he’s not your _actual_ brother and you can like him?”

“ _I don’t like Derek!_ ” Why did her voice keep wavering so much? Lying usually caused that.

Marti rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Okay, I didn’t want to do this,” she said, a strange resignation to her tone, “but why were you in his room in the middle of the night the day before you left home?”

Casey stared at her agape, rewinding her words inside her mind to ascertain she had heard her correctly and not made up those words. Her body seemed paradoxically hot and cold; if she touched her cheeks, they would be flaming, but she felt her limbs cold as if her circulation had come to a stop. Was there a limit for unpleasant surprises in a day?

Lizzie looked at Casey, apparently as surprised as her. “What?” 

“She hid behind the door, but I saw her through the sliver,” Marti explained, as if she was telling a close friend about her shopping spree on the weekend. “But only after I asked Smerek if I could sleep there, so I couldn’t back out.”

There was absolutely nothing in Casey’s mind now but the thought that she was to blame for that situation. She couldn’t have imagined Marti had seen her that night, but she could have prevented it if she hadn’t been stupid enough to follow Derek into his room. 

She widened her eyes when both girls looked at her expectantly, shaking her head in advance. “ _No_. No! You want to know what I was doing there?” she asked Marti, who eagerly nodded her head. “Your brother was drunk and I went there to help him.”

“Why did you hide?”

“Because we kind of had a feeling you’d jump to conclusions. Which was a legitimate concern, apparently.” Her voice sounded bitter in the last sentence, but Marti didn’t seem particularly affected. “Look, you wanted to know what was going on. _That's_ what's going on.”

“Okay, okay,” Lizzie said softly, touching Casey’s arm. “Calm down. Let’s go back to the issue here. We’re lucky Sarah didn’t say Derek’s name, so let’s make sure no one else who knows you _do_.”

Casey nodded. “I’m more worried about Will right now. I can’t leave him alone with mom and George for that long."

“Let’s go back, then,” Lizzie suggested, giving her a nod. “We can talk about this later.”

Casey agreed with her head and walked out of the restroom without checking to see if Marti and Lizzie were following her; she had had her fair share of awkward conversations, but the embarrassment that struck now was indescribable. Determined to forget that discussion, she quickly spotted her seat and saw it was occupied by Edwin now.

“...as good as him,” Edwin was saying. 

“I get it man, but like... people have different talents. Maybe yours isn’t hockey, but there’s probably something out there you can do better than anyone else. There are tons of sports.” 

“I can’t play anything for shit.”

Will snorted, nodding his head in agreement. “Me neither. Give me a stick and I’ll hit myself on the head with it.”

Edwin laughed, but upon noticing Casey’s presence, he smiled at her and promptly stood up to go back to his seat. Slightly alarmed, she sat down beside Will again; she hadn’t thought about the possibility of _that_ interaction happening. 

"What were you talking about?” she asked as nonchalantly as possible.

"Ah, you know,” he replied smugly, glancing at her briefly. “Just manly stuff."

Casey snorted and turned her head to watch the game, enjoying the relief that came from Will's unaltered behavior. If either George or Edwin had ruined her plan by mentioning their kinship with Derek, Will would definitely have brought it up. 

Fortunately, the game kept them busy enough to prevent more unwanted interactions, but Casey was still greeted by a twinge of anxiety whenever George stood up with the chanting crowd or Derek scored a goal. Gladly, when Derek’s team scored 5 points over 2, even in the middle of the raucous celebration—in which Will had to physically contain himself by grasping the arms of his chair to not scream at the top of his lungs—all George did was cheer enthusiastically with the fans.

As soon as the teams walked out of the rink, Lizzie suggested they leave the arena and wait for Derek at the parking lot. Casey encouraged them to go ahead, claiming she would warn Derek about their presence and lead him to them in a few minutes. 

"Holy shit, I should win an Oscar," Will declared in his natural voice as soon as her family was out of earshot. "You owe me _so_ much, Casey."

"I know!" She took Will’s hands into hers and beamed at him. "Thank you, Will. Seriously."

"Will you tell me _why_ they don’t want you to date Derek, though?"

Maybe she should have used the time she spent worrying about George and Will on creating an explanation for that question, that she knew was bound to be asked again. She thought of her best friend and the first thing that popped into her mind when she found out Emily was dating Derek. “You know Derek, he was always dating around. They think he can’t commit, so...”

“Wouldn’t want their princess’ heart to be broken,” Will finished, placing his own hand on his chest dramatically. 

And Casey nodded, painfully aware that it was her destiny—she _would_ have her heart broken eventually, it was already cracking. Only it wasn’t Derek’s fault, but her own. 

“Well, but I mean,” he resumed with a shrug, “people change, right? I used to think the same thing until _you_ happened. And they can't really tell you who to date, that's stupid.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her place, crossing her arms around her torso. By the way Will pressed his lips into a hard line, he sensed her uneasiness and nodded. “Okay, let’s find your man, come on,” he said, whirling around to make his way to the locker rooms. 

The hall that led to their destination was guarded by a large, big-boned man, but since there were a few players still hanging around outside, Will asked one of Derek’s teammates she recognized as Toshi to allow them in. 

“You stay here, I’ll go get him.” Will didn’t even hesitate before opening the locker room door indecorously and entering. 

Casey waited patiently, laying back against the wall opposite to the door; she heard a commotion as the guys cheered for Will and a few seconds later, Derek left the room to meet her. Her heart nearly stopped at the vision of his bare torso glistening with sweat, combined with that messy hair and his trademark smirk. Heat radiated across her body like energy waves, from the pit of her stomach to the extremities of her limbs. She rested her palms flat on the wall behind her, both in an attempt to cool them down and refrain herself from doing anything irrational. 

“It was less than three hours, Case,” he teased. “Miss me already?”

"Our family is here," she blurted out.

His smirk vanished immediately, giving way to a frown. "What? Why— _how_? We didn’t tell them about the game."

The door opened up again and Will stepped into the small hall, standing next to Derek in silence. His eyes traveled down Derek's chest unabashedly and Casey seized the opportunity to cast Derek a pointed look. “Apparently... _my family_ looked up the upcoming games on the internet. _And_ they heard about my boyfriend, so I had to improvise,” she added with a grimace.

Derek lifted an eyebrow. “Improvise?”

Will moved to stand beside Casey, looping an arm around her shoulders to pull her into his side and give her a light kiss on the crown of her head. "You lose a woman when you forget to cherish her."

Derek bit his bottom lip—a thoughtless, banal reaction that somehow demanded her full attention for a moment,—trying to repress a laugh, but ultimately couldn’t help it. He crossed his arms across his chest— _thankfully_ —and drifted his eyes between Casey and Will until his laughter ceased. 

“Is this the best you could do?” he mocked.

"That's so insensitive," Will said in mock-offense.

Casey sighed, disentangling herself from Will and stepping away from the wall. "I panicked, Derek! What was I supposed to do?"

"Say any other name? I mean _any._ Even Coach would do."

“You _know_ I don’t work under pressure! Will was there and my mom thought it was him, so I just went along.”

“What’s wrong with Nora?”

"Okay, kids,” Will chimed in placatingly, “fighting won't solve anything. So, Derek, stop insulting me and go take a shower so we can all end this humiliation and drink until we forget this ever happened. Casey and I will wait here."

Derek nodded, the shadow of a smile still persistent on his lips. “Fine.”

Casey sighed, watching as he made his way back into the locker room. Will looked at her for a moment and she thought he was about to say something, but he simply moved closer to the wall to lean his back against it. She noticed she wasn’t even nervous anymore; the adrenaline had already worn off and she had fully accepted the fact that she had made a mess and there was nothing she could do to fix it. She pondered about all the lies she had been feeding to nearly everyone she knew and felt guilty; glancing at Will sideways, she imagined what he would say if she told him the truth. She wondered if he would look at her in disgust and take back everything he said about her relationship with Derek. 

That single thought made her heart drop to her feet; it was another reminder that even if it _were_ true, she would never stop lying. No one could ever know their real story or learn about their family. 

“Are you okay?” Will asked, softly.

Casey fixed her gaze on him, noticing that her eyes were tearing up. “Yeah. I’ll wait at the end of the hall,” she announced, turning her back to him before he had a chance to say anything else.

She blinked the tears away, unsure about what she was even crying about, and waited until Derek appeared properly dressed in jeans and a black shirt, bag hanging on one shoulder and eyes fixed on his phone. The scent of his body spray reached her nostrils before he approached her with a grin and motioned for her to follow him towards the exit as he placed his phone inside his pocket. She sighed involuntarily. 

"Do you think we can take Will with us? You know, to talk to your mom."

"Are you insane?"

"What? Watching you and Will would be the best part of this night, and I mean even better than us crushing the Ridgebacks."

She rolled her eyes, looking over her shoulder when she heard voices. Will and Pete were a few meters behind them, arms practically pressed together as they chatted intimately in hushed tones. 

“Congrats, by the way,” she said, turning her head to watch her steps as they made their way through the bleak grey-walled hall. “I almost never know what’s happening, but you’re very impressive to watch.”

Derek fixed his gaze on her profile and she regretted her terse words immediately, already expecting some sort of smug comeback. “I should get you into watching hockey. Maybe teach you a few things, so you know what you’re talking about when you praise your boyfriend to other people. Your _original_ fake boyfriend, of course.”

Casey forced a derisive chuckle, unsure of her motivations behind what left her mouth the next second, ladened with sarcasm, "Oh, there's only you, babe."

She saw his smirk intensifying with the corner of her eyes, a surprised expression combined with an amused chuckle under his breath that made her cheeks suffuse with color. He had been torturing her with that pet name for far too long and while part of her hated it for the mere fact that he used it to provoke her, the other part couldn't help but secretly enjoy hearing it leaving his lips and being attributed to her. She was surprised to find out it was just as satisfying to say.

"Finally, I was starting to think this relationship was one-sided," he quipped. "I like the effort, but I want something else," he continued, and she stopped in her tracks as he reached for the handle of the door at the end of the hall that led to the back of the arena to hold it open for her to pass. "You."

Casey stared at him wide-eyed, a wave of heat coursing through her body and prickling her skin from the inside. "What?" 

A smirk tugged on the corner of Derek's lips, slow and nerve-wracking, and she instantly cursed herself when he motioned with his hand towards the outside. "You first."

She was either finding non-existent meanings to what Derek said—after talking to Emily she had been paying extreme attention to his every word and action—or he was purposefully adding ambiguity to his own words, because it had been happening too frequently for her to ignore it. Drowned in chagrin, she forced herself to escape his gaze and that stupid smirk and moved to walk through the door and welcome the fresh spring air into her lungs in an attempt to clear her head.

"We're hitting the bar now," Derek began, moving to stand in front of her. She took half a step back to add a bit of distance, which he visibly noticed but didn't point out. "I want you to come with me."

"Can't you just tell your friends I... wasn't feeling well or something?"

"Don't you want to spend time with your boyfriend?" he countered in fake indignation. She barely had time to react before he took a sudden step forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, thumbs sliding very subtly to the crook of her neck and coaxing an involuntary shiver out of her. She was absolutely positive he did it on purpose when he a crooked smile spread across his face. "Come on, it'll be fun. By now you must've learned what fun means, right?"

Casey tilted her chin up, squinting her eyes at him defiantly, which only made his smile twist into a smirk and suddenly she didn't know what she was about to say anymore. His eyes sparkled with impishness as his thumbs began to brush the patch of skin between her neck and her shoulders. A shaky breath came out of her mouth; it was almost unfair how easily he could weaken her and she knew he was aware of it. It was hard not to think he was only playing games when it happened.

"Hey, not to be a buzzkill," Will's voice made Casey bolt away from Derek abruptly and look at their friends, wondering how she hadn't noticed them approaching, "but isn't that your family there?" He pointed to the right with his finger, where, sure enough, their family was gathered next to their car in the distance.

Nora and George had their backs turned to them, but the kids were sitting on the hood of the car facing their way. Granted they were all on their phones, but Casey's pulse quickened at the possibility of having been seen by any of them. She glanced at Derek, who looked irritatingly unfazed with his hands inside his pockets. The more time they spent together, the more reckless she felt herself becoming. 

"You're hopeless," Will concluded with a wave of his hand.

Pete snorted. "Does that mean we'll get to see the newest couple together firsthand?"

"Oh, fuck." Will tapped his forehead with his right hand. "She just looked my way. She's waving at us."

Casey looked back at her family to see her mom waving her hand in the air, as if asking them to approach. Certain that the night couldn't get any worse, she took a deep breath and turned to Will with a contrite smile. 

"This night can't get any better," Derek jeered, receiving a glare from both Casey and Will. 

"Can I come with?" Pete asked with nearly childish excitement. 

"Absolutely not," Will countered, "you go to the car and wait for me there.”

Pere rolled his eyes, but upon seeing the censoring look in Will's eyes, mumbled a "See you guys" and sauntered off to the parking lot. They watched in silence as he disappeared beyond the sea of cars and Casey glanced up at Will with an apologetic look, while he scrunched up his nose as if telling her there was no need for it, offering his hand. Casey promptly grabbed it and ignored the amused look Derek was casting them, a repressed smile on his lips. 

“Fuck you, Venturi,” Will said, pulling Casey with him. 

She heard Derek’s light chuckle as he followed them, and couldn’t help a feeling of awkwardness that ensued, not only from having Derek watching that situation unravel, but from having both Marti and Lizzie knowing the truth.

George was the first one to notice their presence and he opened his arms with a broad smile to greet Derek. “Hey, if it isn’t the star of the team!” he extolled, patting Derek’s back excitedly. “You were amazing there!”

“Thanks..." Derek said, pausing before he could add an almost inevitable ‘dad’.

“You _really_ were,” Nora agreed. “That's some talent!”

Derek pressed his lips together, visibly embarrassed with their parents’ displays of affection; it brought a small smile to Casey’s lips. It was both satisfying and adorable seeing him act bashfully. 

“I was kind of expecting a fight,” Marti mentioned, opening her arms to allow Derek to pick her up into his arms. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her head. “But you were _awesome_.” 

“Thanks, Smarti.”

“Do you have any plans to celebrate?” George asked, drifting his eyes between Casey and Derek. “We were planning to get dinner.”

“We’d be happy to have Will with us, too,” Nora added, smiling at the boy. 

Derek smirked openly, turning his attention to Casey and Will, and she wasn’t surprised in the least when she noticed Marti doing the same. Their expressions were so eerily similar Casey wondered if her step-sister practiced it on the mirror on a daily basis.

“Well, I mean,” Derek began, cynically, “we _were_ heading to the bar, but I wouldn’t mind going to dinner with you guys first. It’s a great opportunity for you to get to know Will,” he said, patting Will’s back with unneeded strength. “And Casey doesn’t really like to drink, you know your daughter. I bet she’d like to go.”

His eyes met hers with a toying look and she clenched her jaw as she forced a smile. “Actually... Will and I wanted to go to the bar too. Right..." She turned to Will, who had the best stoic expression on his face as he stood with his chest puffed up in what he thought was a stereotypical manly pose. The only thing on her mind was Derek’s stupid pet name for her, so she almost grimaced when she said, “Babe?”

She could see Derek’s smirk with the corner of her eyes, but forced herself to keep staring at Will, who nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” he said in his deep voice, to which Derek coughed in an attempt to disguise a laugh. Marti smacked her hand against his back a couple of times. "Um... I was actually going to meet a friend there... but you can go..." he added, looking at Casey with a subtle crease on his forehead, “ _babe_. We can meet up later."

Casey cast him a meaningful look, briefly fantasizing about slapping Will’s face. She wondered if he was punishing her for making him help her.

“Great idea!” Derek observed, lowering Marti until she could reach the ground. “You guys go ahead,” he told their parents, “send me the location and we’ll be there.”

Nora and George agreed, insisting that Will join them the next time they visited before they finally climbed into their car with the kids and drove away. Will let go of her hand the moment the car disappeared behind the gates of the arena. 

"Casey, forget the one favor thing,” he said dramatically in his normal voice, “you'll owe me so much you’re going to need a list."

“Apparently I just paid the first installment,” she retorted bitterly. “ _Why_ would you tell me to go to dinner with them?”

“I thought they might insist, so it was better to take myself out of the equation before they decided to fucking bring me along. Your boyfriend surely wasn’t helping!” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at Derek.

“Fighting won't solve anything, remember?” Derek intervened, stepping forward with another smirk on his lips, arms extended to the side as if trying to avoid a physical fight. “Answer me this instead,” he said mockingly, turning to Will, “how much would _I_ owe you if I asked you to do that voice again?"

Will rolled his eyes. "I never repeat myself, Derek, but fuck you."

Derek laughed. "Just once."

Will arched his eyebrows, flashing him a mischievous smile. "What, were you turned on by it?"

"More like creeped out, but whatever makes you sleep at night."

Will snorted, drifting his eyes to Casey with a softer expression. “I really didn’t mean to put you in that situation, I was just trying to spare us all a very awkward dinner.”

Casey nodded, letting out a low sigh. “I know. I’m sorry, I should be _thanking_ you.”

“Yes, you _should_ ," he agreed, gently patting her cheek. "Now, can I _please_ go to the bar?"

“Yes,” Derek said, a sarcastic undertone to his voice as he added, “I’ll go get the car if you guys want some time to make out."

“Fuck you, Derek,” Casey echoed Will’s words, driven by Derek’s inconvenience, which elicited surprised looks from both of them. 

Derek smirked; she swallowed upon seeing the toying glow that appropriated his eyes. “I love your dirty mouth, babe.”

An immediate blush seared through her cheeks, unsurprisingly—it seemed conducive. Everything about that sentence was raunchy, but shamefully titillating. She dropped her eyes to the floor, crossing her arms.

“Ugh, you two make me sick,” Will complained, taking a few steps away before adding, “I’ll see you later. If you don’t end up jumping each other’s bones before you even get to the bar.”

Casey snapped her head up to see him walking away, lifting her right hand to touch her cheeks. She looked at Derek and rolled her eyes at his smug expression, deliberately bumping into his shoulder as she walked past him to find their car.

“Come on,” he said, hurrying his steps to catch up to her, “are you going to be _mad_ at me now?”

“I just want this night to end already, Derek,” she replied, letting out an exhausted sigh while she fished for the car keys in her purse. “Can you behave like a decent human being for one hour?”

He stole the keys from her hand and smirked, which made her groan quietly even before he blocked her way and stood between her and the passenger’s door of the Prince. She lifted her eyes to his, annoyed. 

“Call me babe again.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

His smirk grew wider as he took a step back until his back collided against the car door and crossed his arms. “Call me babe.”

A sound between a chuckle and a gasp escaped her lips. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because all you want is to tease me, Derek. So, _no_ , I won’t say it again and if you keep insisting, I won’t go to the bar either.”

“Bummer,” he said, pursing his lips while he swung the car keys around his finger and into his palm. “You always think the worst of me. Maybe I just like to hear you say it.” 

He raised his eyes to meet hers and she held her breath for a moment; there was something about his gaze that made her skin line with goosebumps, an odd mix of genuineness and mischief glowing in stark contrast with the brown of his eyes. It was gone the next second, however, and she watched, stunned, as he moved away from the car to open the door as though that weird tension that swirled around them like an invisible veil had been the result of something her mind had fabricated.

“Derek,” she warned, narrowing her eyes, “if you so much as _try_ to embarrass me at dinner...”

He inclined his head forward, eyebrows raised expectantly. “Is there a threat there? I don’t hear it.” He grinned and tapped the roof of the car. “I guess you’re going to have to trust me.”

***

The restaurant was a moderately small and intimate place located downtown; its cozy and quiet atmosphere was delightful and the food was delicious. She was only able to notice the details of the good lighting or the tall windows that permitted a view of the street outside after a few minutes of light conversation with her family. 

Her eyes kept darting between Marti and Derek, who, she thought, were the only people capable of ruining that moment. The girl was sitting across from her and beside Nora, utterly invested in eating her spaghetti as fast as she could; Derek was sitting next to Casey, sharing his views about the game with George. Nora divided her attention between their conversation and the one Lizzie and Edwin were having, while Casey remained as silent as possible. 

“So, Casey,” Nora called, and even though she had been expecting questions, she prepared herself mentally before turning to her mother. “How did you meet Will?”

She didn’t fail to notice how Derek instantly paused his conversation to watch her embarrassing herself. She fathomed he was somewhat keeping the promise he hadn’t even made to act decently, but wouldn’t reject the opportunity to witness her misery.

“Oh... I don’t think we should talk about _me_ ,” she said, adding a strained chuckle, “this night is about Derek, right?”

“What?” Derek shook his head, even turning his body to face her with a teasing glow in his eyes. “Oh, no, _please._ I’d _love_ to hear the story.”

 _Sweet naiveté._ She gritted her teeth, forcing a smile that nearly hurt the corners of her mouth. “You already _know_ the story, Derek.”

“No, I don’t,” he countered, knitting his eyebrows in feigned confusion. “I didn’t even know you were interested in him until you told me you were dating. I have no idea how _that_ happened.”

Casey let out a sound that resembled a sarcastic chuckle, but sounded like a threat in her mind. Derek smirked at her, fully aware of that fact. She wondered if she could get away with murder, because the prospect of killing him now seemed especially tempting. 

“Why did you say it like that?” Nora asked, her interference making Casey realize she had been staring at Derek for too long. 

Derek rested his arm on the back of his own chair, addressing Nora, “Let's just say that Will isn't very secretive about _who_ he likes." He drifted his eyes back to Casey tauntingly. "Casey’s not usually his type, so it just caught me by surprise when they got together."

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to look away from him before she committed a crime. She had asked him. She had _literally_ asked him not to ruin that dinner, but perhaps it had been naive of her to believe he would comply for once. 

“You were already friends with him?” George spoke up for the first time, taking a sip of his water. 

Derek nodded. “Yeah, he's a regular in our games. He's _very_ close with the guys."

Casey kicked his shin under the table as subtly as possible and he groaned lightly in pain, disguising it by clearing his throat. She should have known better than that, however, because it only made him glance at her again with a mischievous look. “But anyway, _Casey_ , when did it happen?” he asked.

She nibbled on the inside of her bottom lip, refraining her own vexation, and delayed her answer when Derek’s eyes slipped to her mouth for a split second before focusing her eyes again. He wasn’t even close, but it seemed like his presence was suffocating her. Casey cleared her throat, looking at her mother and thanking her stars that she wasn’t blushing. “We met at one of Derek’s games,” she finally said. It wasn’t a lie.

“We want the deets,” Derek pressed.

She rested her forearms on the table, ignoring his insistent eyes over her profile. “I’m sure no one wants to hear the _deets_.” 

“ _I_ do!” Marti countered, setting her elbows on the table to lean forward and beam at Casey. It wasn’t just her imagination, Marti was a copy of her older brother in a female body. “It must be very recent, right? Because he wasn’t with you when you went to that festival.”

Casey steered back unconsciously, slightly startled at Marti’s affirmation. It wasn’t only the impish undertone in her sentence, but the certainty that she added to it. Casey had told Nora about the festival, but never mentioned any names besides Derek’s. 

“How would you know that?”

Marti shrugged. "I know a lot of things."

Casey glanced sideways at Derek, but couldn’t decipher his expression. He seemed slightly humored by his sister, yet his brows were furrowed. 

“He _was_ there, actually,” Casey said. 

“Huh.” Marti placed her chin on her palms, shaking her head. “Maybe there were no photos of him, then.”

“There w— _photos_?”

Casey didn’t know whether it was Marti’s smile or that ominous sensation that she had been hoarding inside prior to that conversation, but her stomach clenched uneasily. 

Nora chuckled, waving her hand in the air. “Marti just joined Facebook,” she explained, “and she was looking up the festival you attended the other day and found some pictures of you on their website.”

“ _Fanpage_ ,” Marti corrected her promptly. “But I don’t remember seeing your boyfriend there. Only you... and Smerek.” A smile crept upon her face. “And some other people I don’t know. _Definitely_ not your boyfriend.”

Casey swallowed, forcing her brain to work despite the anxiety she felt eating her from the inside. She had been exceptionally close to Derek during the festival, thoroughly consistent with her role of a girlfriend—they had _kissed, for God’s sake!_ Her heart pounded inside her chest.

“He was probably hanging with the guys,” Derek chimed in. “At one point we kind of lost him in the crowd.”

“Hmm, probably,” she agreed, although her tone suggested she didn’t believe that version of the story. “Did you guys go out in the city?”

"Why are we still talking about me?" Casey asked, pointing at Derek. "Star of the night right here."

Derek drew closer to her, putting one arm around her shoulders, which made her flinch. "It must’ve been so hard for you to say that, Case. Thank you." He let her go when she shrugged him off. "But I'm feeling generous, gush about your date." He turned to Marti in a conspiratory manner. "They were out the whole afternoon, we had to text them to come back in time to leave. When has Casey ever lost track of time?"

“Der- _ek_ ,” Casey chided under her breath. 

Marti's eyes lit up and she bounced on her chair, looking at Casey. "How was it?"

"Good."

"Come on, now," Derek intervened, stretching his arm over his chair to touch her shoulder. "I remember you telling him it was spectacular."

She cogitated putting her hands around his neck and calling it self-defense, but only swatted his hand away with more violence than necessary. 

“Where did you guys go?” Lizzie pressed. 

Casey shrugged dismissively. “We just walked around town.”

"I have to advocate for my friend here," Derek meddled again. "He took you to every single boring thing you're into."

Casey gasped, letting her irritation turn into incredulity as she finally stared at him. "It's not boring! He said he _liked_ it," she reminded him.

“ _Did_ he?” he countered, cocking an eyebrow.

“It was _heavily_ implied.”

His lips twitched until a smirk appeared. “What do you know! Maybe he really likes you. Doesn’t find you as annoying as I do.”

Casey inadvertently held his gaze for an appropriate amount of seconds before it became uncomfortable—or noticeable,—demanding her body not to blush. She knew he was messing with her, but it was awfully difficult to not try to read between the lines when his words sounded so ambiguous.

Lizzie chuckled beside her. “I’m guessing by ‘boring stuff’ Derek means cultural places. Did you see the National Gallery? You’ve always wanted to visit it,” she remembered. “Remember we were supposed to go with dad, but he had that urgent meeting in New York?”

Casey nodded, feeling part of her tension slip away as she smiled at her sister. “Yeah, I do. It was so beautiful, I think you’d love every bit of that place, Liz. Maybe we could go together someday,” she suggested.

Lizzie beamed at her. “I’d love that.”

“Wow,” Marti said, sighing as she folded her arms over the table. “That's so romantic. I mean, it _sounds_ boring, but he went out of his way to do it for _you_."

It wasn’t _romantic_. Of course it _sounded_ like it was and she couldn’t be a hypocrite and pretend it also didn’t _feel_ like it was at the time, but it didn’t mean it _was._ Her mind began to wander unwittingly, reminiscing on that day; on Derek’s hand holding hers like they were an extension of each other; on his words that filled up her heart with warmth; on his smile and the glow in his eyes, captured by that photo she loved; on her lips sealing his for the first time after learning she loved him.

“Don’t underestimate the power of boring,” Edwin commented, pointing with his fork at Marti. “It works. I took Casey’s advice with Hannah and Derek was absolutely right when he said I’d end up watching chick flicks, but it wasn’t that bad. Worst movie ever made, but she loved it. Boring can actually be fun.” 

Edwin shrugged as though his contribution to the conversation was only an insight that shouldn’t be overanalyzed and drifted his attention back to his dinner, but Casey instantly remembered the day she and Derek fought over the best strategy for Edwin to approach Hannah. Derek was absolutely against the idea of being even slightly romantic, yet his latest choices had been based on what she would consider to be exactly that. Edwin’s description of his date with Hannah was basically a description of their own. 

“So he must know you pretty well,” Marti said. “Was he in ‘Dating Advice for Dummies 101’ with Edwin?”

“Hey!” Edwin protested with his mouth full of pasta, a tiny layer of tomato sauce on his upper lip.

Lizzie and Marti chuckled, and while Nora had a smile on her face, she reproached Marti and turned to Casey again, who was sure there were red spots all over her neck by now. 

“That _is_ really sweet,” Nora said.

"Well, that's Will," Derek chimed in again, pure mockery in his tone. Casey groaned under her breath. "Some might even say Casey doesn't love him the way she should."

She scoffed in disbelief, turning to glower at Derek, whose smirk denoted how extremely entertaining that situation was for him. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Marti objected. Her semblance was serious when Casey shifted her gaze to her. “Have you seen the way they look at each other?”

Casey took a deep breath and placed her napkin on the table with a low thud. “I need to go to the toilet,” she announced, casting a meaningful look at Derek before she walked away from the table with what was left of her dignity. 

She looked back to make sure no one was watching her besides Derek and turned right to divert from the direction of the toilets, stepping out onto a small area out in the open where a few tables had been placed for the customers who preferred the outdoors. It was slightly chilly, so there was only a couple at the back. Casey walked to the opposite corner and crossed her arms when a cold breeze touched her skin; she waited patiently until Derek appeared a few minutes later, completely unfazed with his infuriating smirk plastered on his lips.

“If you were so desperate for some alone time with me, you could’ve told me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, outraged. “Would it _kill you_ to be a decent person for once, Derek? I _asked_ you not to ruin this."

“See, that’s why compromises are important in a relationship,” he began, assuming a condescending tone as he crossed his arms to mimic her. “We never reached one. And to think it could’ve been solved with one single word, babe.”

Grinding her teeth, she covered her face with her hands for a moment and breathed in and out in an attempt to calm herself down. “Do you actually enjoy torturing me?” She looked up at him again. “Oh, right, I forgot, you _do_!"

He smirked. " _I do_ ," he agreed, chuckling after she gasped. "Casey, you know it only works because _you_ make it too easy. Just jump in on the fun."

" _What fun_?” Her voice raised unwittingly. “There _is_ no fun!"

Derek looked over her shoulders and she followed his gaze to see the couple she had spotted earlier. They were so involved in their own particular world that they hadn’t even noticed the discussion occurring in that same place.

“ _Stop_ teasing me,” she demanded, quieter.

“To be fair, Marti is making it really difficult not to do it."

“Don’t even get me _started_ on that!” She smacked his arm when he rolled his eyes, but he barely flinched at her aggression. “ _Why_ are you playing along? And more importantly, _what_ photo is she talking about?”

Derek unfolded his arms to step forward and hold her shoulders; her breath hitched, but his expression softened. “Casey, relax.”

"I can't _relax_!"

He raised his eyebrows as if agreeing with that statement, but his voice was still calm when he said, “Look, I have no idea about this photo, I haven't seen it. But you're losing your mind over something you know nothing about. It can be literally _anything_."

"Right, like us kissing."

"It's a possibility."

She gasped, wriggling her shoulders in order to make him retrieve his hands. " _How_ can you be okay with this? It’s your sister!"

"There's nothing we can do about it."

"Derek," she tried again, pinching the bridge of her nose before looking up at him. "Marti knows about the whole fake dating thing and she thinks we _actually_ like each other. Sooner or later she's going to try to do something about it and I have a feeling _she's just started it_ ," she concluded, whisper-shouting the last part as she pointed towards the restaurant.

He bit the inside of his cheek to repress a smile. “That sounds like something Marti would do.”

She clenched her jaw, letting the wave of irritation wash over her as she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him. She wasn’t nearly as strong as him, but she reckoned his surprise made him stagger and collide his back with the wall behind him. 

Derek cocked an eyebrow, visibly amused by her reaction, but didn’t say anything when she jabbed one finger into his chest and chided, “This is not funny, Derek! You _know_ your sister. Just _think_ about what can happen if she tries to meddle in this mess.” 

He tilted his chin up, letting out a tired exhale. “What do you want me to do, Casey?”

Her fingers wrapped around his shirt instinctively and Derek lowered his head to look at her, which led her to the late realization that she must have leaned into him unconsciously since she could now see his eyes so clearly. At an appropriate distance, it was difficult to discern the deep brown of his eyes from the black of his pupils; but when she was close enough, she was able to spot every little detail, from the etching of umber and gold that rimmed his iris to the beautiful earthy hues that were so often reduced to 'brown eyes'. She was guilty of doing the same. 

She swallowed, aware that her forearms and her own chest were practically pressed against his, but unable to move. "Did you not hear what I just said?"

"Are you scared that a kid will make you fall in love with me or something?"

She blinked in disbelief, sputtering, "You—you just— _what_?"

He sighed quietly, his breath grazing her lips and making her quiver. "I don’t get why you’re so upset. If you have nothing to fear, why worry about it?"

“I’m not—” Casey exhaled the air in her lungs too quickly, involuntarily dropping her eyes to the smirk he plastered on his mouth. She wanted to erase it from his face. With her own lips. She groaned mentally, feeling her fingers grasp his shirt even harder, consequently bringing them closer. 

She needed to step back immediately and drift her eyes back to his eyes, she _knew it_ ; but it was physically impossible to deny the magnetism she felt radiating from him. The twinge of yearning in her stomach translated into a wild and unruly urge to tug at his collar and pull him down to kiss her; she could feel it in the way her heart beat savagely against her ribs, in the way her lips were tingling to touch his, in the way her hand pressed against his chest and felt his own heartbeat speeding up by the second. 

It awakened her from her daydream, prompting her to meet his eyes with a puzzled look, a silent question, but his gaze was firmly fixed on _her_ lips. She felt herself gravitating towards him, the smell of cedar slowly intoxicating her lungs, one of her hands subtly sliding up his chest until she could feel the sewing of the collar of his shirt under her fingertips. They grabbed the edge of the fabric. 

“Hey.”

She jerked away from him in an abrupt movement, blushing violently as she turned her head to stare bashfully at Lizzie. Somehow, her breathing had become unsteady and she tried her best to normalize it while Derek moved away from the wall and smoothed his shirt down with the most neutral expression she had ever seen on his face. 

"Good timing," he mumbled, having the audacity to smile at Lizzie, who arched her eyebrows in mild amusement.

"Well, it was either me or mom, so be thankful," she said, glancing at Casey. "You took too long and she went to look for you in the restroom. I had to offer to come.”

Casey nodded frantically. "I was—just—” she sputtered, motioning to Derek without looking at him. “We were just talking."

Lizzie gave her a skeptic smile, but agreed with a nod. “Okay.”

"It's true."

"I didn't say it wasn’t."

Derek cleared his throat, clearly repressing a laugh. “I take it you’re leaving?” 

Lizzie nodded. “Yeah, it’s getting late and the babysitter has to go home. You should go first, Casey and I will follow in a minute.”

“Alright,” he agreed, casting one last withering look at Casey before turning around.

She glared at his back as he moved perfectly collected towards the restaurant, wondering how he managed to oscillate between emotions so quickly and disguise them with such ease. She wasn’t imagining his heartbeat practically matching hers just seconds ago; she wasn’t imagining the ardent look in his eyes as she drew closer to him. 

“So... that date _was_ with Derek.” 

Having completely forgotten about her sister’s presence, Casey turned to her alarmed. “What?”

“It was pretty obvious, but you never know,” she continued, dismissing Casey’s question. There was a hint of debauchery to her tone as she added, “I didn’t know fake dating required actual thought-out dates. It’s nice of Derek to get into character like that.”

Casey’s shoulders slumped in helplessness, followed by a deep sigh. She shook her head slowly, rubbing one palm across her face. “I swear I wasn’t lying to you.”

“I know. I believe you,” Lizzie replied softly, considering her next words carefully as she took a step closer towards her. “Is this still about mom?”

Casey genuinely didn’t know how to answer. While Nora was always on her mind whenever she thought of her feelings for Derek, serving as an undeniable barrier between them along with their entire family, the main factor to be considered was Derek _himself_. Even if she dared to think about giving her feelings a chance, she was only half of that equation; she still didn’t know _what_ Derek felt, but whatever it was, it was definitely _not_ love.

She couldn’t imagine him abandoning his freedom to fully commit to someone else and nurture a relationship that could offer so many problems. With _her_ of all people. There was too much baggage. She wasn't even sure she _wanted_ a relationship with him in the first place—what if things didn't work out? What if he decided he didn't like her anymore? What if she ruined family reunions and holidays forever? 

_You're overthinking._

“I don’t want you to get involved in this, Liz.”

“It’s a little late for that,” she observed with a playful smile. “You never used to hide things from me. And I’m not saying you _have_ to tell me stuff, I’m just saying you’re keeping a lot of things to yourself. And that’s not good.”

“Everything’s really messy right now,” Casey said, crossing her arms across her torso. “I don’t think I’d even know _what_ to tell you.”

“It sounds pretty simple to me,” Lizzie countered, gently touching her arm. “You have feelings for him. The bane of your existence. It’s poetic,” she added with a chuckle. 

Casey lowered her head, darting her eyes to Lizzie’s shirt. She was slowly accepting the fact that her feelings weren’t as secretive as she thought they were, that her armor had been broken and left open—and who was to say _Derek_ hadn’t realized it yet? 

“Does Derek know?”

“Of course not!” She raised her eyes to look at Lizzie, a twinge of insecurity gnawing at her as she looked at the door that led to the restaurant for good measure. “I _hope_ not.”

“So your plan is to do... nothing?”

“Exactly. Soon this will all be over and I’ll go back to only worrying about exams and due dates.”

Lizzie’s brows snapped together. She gently held Casey’s arms to force her to look at her. “Casey, that’s not how feelings work. _You_ of all people should know that. It’s not like you can just wake up one morning and decide not to have them anymore. Just putting an end to this whole fake dating thing won’t solve it.”

“Well, people can fall out of love, can’t they?” she blurted out, only realizing what her words meant the moment Lizzie’s lips parted with comprehension. She could feel her heart pounding in her temples now.

“Oh.”

Casey removed Lizzie’s hands from her arms as gingerly as possible and tried a weak smile. “Just let go, okay? Don’t worry about me, this is not your problem. _Please,_ ” she begged when Lizzie opened her mouth to protest. “The only thing I need from you right now is to know about the photo Marti mentioned. Do you know anything about it?”

Lizzie stared at her cautiously, nodding her head. “Yeah, she showed it to me. It’s not as bad as you think, though.” She tilted her head to the side, evaluating her statement. Her lips quirked up into a warm smile. “It’s actually pretty sweet.”

Casey raised her eyebrows subtly. “What does ‘not as bad as you think’ mean?”

“It’s really not a big deal. And don’t worry, mom and George aren’t on Facebook. They won’t see it.”

“Well, _no one_ was supposed to see it. I’m scared to think what kind of ideas it must’ve given Marti.”

Lizzie chuckled. “You say it like she’s some evil genius. Marti won’t do anything, she’s just obsessed with proving she was right all along. But, Case,” she continued, tone more serious than before, “you should stop thinking about what _others_ might think or do. It doesn’t matter. You can’t hide behind your fear forever. And if you _really_ care about people’s opinions that much, then care about mine too. I’m all for it.”

Casey blinked, lips slightly parted as if she was about to say something, but unable to find words available inside her brain. Lizzie studied her apprehensive face and reached for her hand. “We should probably go now, but... you’re always one call away when I need you. And I think you forget I’m one call away when _you_ need me as well.”

She felt a small smile tugging on the corner of her lips. “Thank you.” 

There was so much meaning in those simple, almost overused words; it wasn’t only a response to Lizzie’s offer, but also a relieved reaction to her understanding. She never meant for her sister to be involved—and was still determined to keep her as far away as possible from that mess,—but her chest felt lighter as she freed herself from all the lies. 

“Come on.” 

Lizzie motioned with her chin for them to move and Casey held on to her hand to return to the restaurant. They found their family outside, by the entrance, taking shelter under the awning from the drizzle that fell from the black inky sky now. She managed to wear a convincing smile for the extra ten minutes that took Nora and George to finally decide it was time to go home, but as soon as their car vanished in the traffic, she let it falter. 

"What took you so long?" Derek asked. 

She heard the jingling sound of keys, but kept her eyes on a visible traffic light to their right. The unsettling trepidation that appropriated her body was a clear sign that she couldn't bear maintaining eye contact with him now. 

"Damage control." There was an unwitting hint of resent in her tone and she wasn't sure who it was directed at. Maybe it was at both of them. 

After an uncomfortable moment of silence in which she could feel his gaze on her profile, Derek entered her line of sight cautiously. 

"Hey," he called, strangely sympathetic, although she refused to face him directly. "Okay, that was douchey. But it's just teasing. That's our thing." 

She looked up at him as a reflex, being greeted by pure candidness in his eyes. Caught off guard, she took a step back. "That's not our _thing_. We don't _have_ a thing." With a tired sigh, she let her eyes rove to his right hand, finding the car keys poking out of his fist. "Let's go before I change my mind." 

"It's fine if you don't want to go. I can drop you off on campus.”

Somehow, the understanding in his tone was even more unnerving than his usual sarcasm. She reckoned it would be easier to blame all of their problems on _that_ Derek, even if it was unfair. Shaking her head, she started to walk towards their car and Derek followed wordlessly. 

As if waiting for them to find refuge, the drizzle turned into rain a few seconds after they shut the car doors. Derek turned the windshield wipers on as soon as he started the car and Casey occupied herself by watching the soft water droplets hit the windows as he drove onwards. The silence that settled between them was an unnatural gaping void that she didn’t know how to fill. Derek glanced at her and she thought he was about to say something when his phone began to ring with a series of notifications.

“It must be Will,” he groaned, shifting in his seat and withdrawing one hand from the steering wheel to pull his phone out of his pocket. He held it in the air between them without taking his eyes off the road. “Tell him to stop being fucking annoying.”

Casey grabbed the phone, eyebrows slightly raised. “You want me to text him back?” 

“No, do it telepathically,” he joked, throwing her a playful look that instantly cut through the tension. “Trust me, he won’t stop.”

She stared at his profile hesitantly. It wasn’t like he was granting her permission to scroll through his messages, but using his phone seemed more significant than what his simple request initially sounded like. When he turned his head partially to briefly look at her again, she eyed the phone screen. 

“What’s your password?”

“Marti’s birthday.”

A smile spread across her lips automatically as she pressed the numbers, but wavered when she took notice of his lockscreen. It was a photo of himself on the rink, donning his hockey jersey, in the middle of a game. Back turned to the camera and head turned to the side, she could see the look of concentration in his eyes just by looking at his profile. It was a beautiful shot. She would have stared at it for longer if it wasn’t for the fact that she noticed Derek’s eyes on her again. 

Clicking on the notification bar—that showed her Derek’s inconvenient texter was indeed Will,—she opened his messages. “You changed your lockscreen?” she asked as casually as possible, hoping her disappointment wasn’t as noticeable to his ears as it was to hers. 

“You didn’t change yours?”

Her stomach clenched, but she kept her eyes on the screen as she texted Will back with a much nicer reply than what Derek had suggested. “Um... no. Not yet.”

He let out a brief chuckle under his breath, peeking at her with the corner of his eyes. “I meant _tonight_. You really made up a whole story about _Will_ being your boyfriend to trick your mom and didn’t think to change your lockscreen when you were going to dinner with her? What would you do if someone asked to borrow your phone? Are you telling me _I’m_ the responsible one now?”

Casey snorted, clicking the button on the side of his phone to shut it off and raise her eyes to the windshield. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, which wasn’t _as_ surprising if she considered the amount of stress she had been put under that night. 

“I’m surprised you care,” she said, glancing at him sideways as her fingers tightened around his phone. 

“Of course you are,” he replied, tone and expression both unreadable. She almost sighed in frustration; the more she groped around for answers, the more he confused her. “Change it back,” he said, gesturing with his hand at his phone. 

Her eyes flicked back to him. “You mean to the one you had before?”

He smiled as if her question was humorous. “What’s with you and the obvious questions today?”

“Just wanted to be sure.”

He hummed noncommittally, focusing momentarily on looking to the sides before making a right turn at an intersection. She wasn’t even remotely prepared for what followed next, leaving his mouth in the most casual manner she could think of, “I like that one better anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this one! I feel like there wasn't as much Dasey as it was more focused on Casey and her doubts/fears, but the next chapter will make up for it 😉
> 
> Guys, as always, thank you so much for all the lovely comments and the kudos you've left me in the previous chapter. I usually read them all when I'm about to post, so it's like getting a big dose of serotonin in one go ❤️ You're all too sweet!
> 
> Hopefully we'll talk soon, I have tons of chapters ready now, only waiting to be proofread (pray for me).  
> I appreciate you all so, so much and I hope you have a lovely week!


	12. Of the Infamous Word and Reverse Psychology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of Sexual Assault]
> 
> Hey, there! I hope you're all well and safe ❤️  
> Here's a new chapter, hope you enjoy it! See ya in the endnotes.

_"We are bound to each other's hearts_

_Caught, torn and pulled apart_

_This love is like wildfire_

_And to my word now I'll be true_

_I can't stop this breaking loose_

_This love is like wildfire”_

_(Wildfire - Seafret)_

Derek 

“You’ve been weirdly quiet,” he pointed out as he drove in the middle of the rain to the bar. 

Derek swore nothing could stand in the way of the energizing feeling of winning another game. Whenever he left the rink with the fulfilling sensation of accomplishment, he thought himself invincible, untouchable. The notion that Casey was watching him somehow made him try harder, play better than he had ever played before—and it worked. Coach Lewis had been considering him for the captain position for the next season and an excellent performance like that could help him stand out even more.

The presence of his family at the game unsettled him for a moment, but he managed to hide it and even entertain himself. Maybe _enjoy_ himself would be more appropriate, because hearing her willingly calling him by the pet name he used to torture her with was incredibly satisfying—and more enticing than it should be. There was something about the way it slipped out of her lips; how she meant it as a witty remark, but still ended up making it sound so tantalizing. It awakened something in him, a greedy eagerness to hear it again, and he wasn't sure it would ever go away now that he knew what the word sounded like in her mouth. 

And then came Casey’s brilliant idea of making Will her boyfriend. He didn't know whether to laugh at her natural talent for getting herself into comical and unnecessary situations or to dread the fact that he was involved in that mess and while he didn't mind lying to his dad, he knew the truth would eventually have to come out. And now he and Casey were both tangled in a web of lies. 

He couldn’t deny there was an irrational hint of jealousy attached to witnessing her holding another man’s hand, but he thought it had little to do with Will— _he was gay, for God’s sake!_ —and more to do with the fact that she could touch him freely; that Will could be introduced to their family and be invited to dinners—Casey didn’t have any reservations about showing _that_ fake relationship to her mom. It was almost impossible to picture him in Will's place at that moment and he vigorously wished he could be a random guy she met at college. 

But he still relished having a reason to provoke her. Yet his actions at dinner had an apparent negative effect on her—and he hated when that happened. Granted he stepped over the line more often than not—in his defense, it was almost impossible not to do it when Marti was practically giving him ammunition,—but speaking through ambiguous words was his cathartic experience. It was the closest he could get to tell her what he truly felt right now, secretly hoping she could read between the lines. He didn't know what Marti's motives were, but there was a reason why he always had a feeling that his sister knew more than what she let them believe.

He was quite surprised and slightly tense after learning about the photo Marti mentioned, but found comfort in the fact that she didn’t seem weirded out by it. He didn't think neither Nora nor George would ever see the photo, but he wasn't exactly looking for drama and willing to risk it—plus the whole situation would soon trigger an anxiety attack on Casey and she needed a break. 

She seemed completely disturbed by the thought that Marti was not only involved, but might also _want_ to get _more_ involved. He wasn’t sure she was more upset about that or the fact that he didn’t care—whatever it was, she turned her anger into something else; something that made her press her body against his, probably oblivious to the fact that he had no control whatsoever; something that tore down her defenses and let him get a glimpse of the bottled-up desire that only came to light when they were that close; something that almost made him risk being caught by their family and kiss her without a care in the world. And if he found her anger-induced shoving him against the wall hot, he would never admit it out loud. 

All he wanted was for her to face her desires and give in, but he knew her well enough to know that wasn’t part of Casey’s essence. The only way she would act on her emotions was if she had _actual_ feelings for the person in question; their conversation at the festival made it very clear. 

“Still mad at me?” he pressed when Casey didn’t say anything.

"No."

Derek arched his eyebrows at her response, both soft and slightly despondent. He expected her to rant about his indecency and secret plans to make her life miserable. Unsure about how to proceed, but not wanting to leave her torturing herself with her own thoughts, he urged, “Then?”

"Nothing."

"That is _very_ believable."

Casey sighed, waiting a few seconds before replying, "I'm just tired of lying. It makes me feel like shit."

He glanced at her briefly; she had her head leaned against the back of her seat and her eyes closed. 

"It's easier at college,” she continued, “but with our parents... I feel like I'm always one step closer to an anxiety attack. And now Marti and Lizzie are involved in this and everything is so... fucked up."

The only times he had heard Casey cursing were in situations where she was either scared or furious. He always found it funny, and maybe—okay, _definitely_ —hot. But right now she sounded simply exhausted and her choice of words made him feel oddly anguished. Perhaps it was the reason for her dismay—their family.

"Why does this bother you so much?" he asked warily, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "Everything always comes back to our family."

Casey stared at his profile for a moment and then dragged her eyes to the windshield. The raindrops patted gently against the glass, filling in the silence with its soothing melody. 

"Because people would think it's..."

"Incest?" he guessed, wincing at the word as he turned left on the street. 

"Yes."

His stomach twisted unpleasantly in a manner that was starting to make him feel nauseated. He found a spot between two cars by the curb, a few meters away from the bar and parked there. Taking his own time to unfasten his seatbelt, he thought of a proper continuation for that discussion. _Incest._ That infamous word had been the reason for many sleepless nights; no, he never thought it applied to them, but it still echoed inside his mind like a little devil laughing scornfully at him.

He turned to Casey, who was still staring at the windshield, seatbelt still on. “But it isn’t,” he affirmed, although he noticed the presence of three invisible dots at the end of his own sentence, adding an implicit ‘right?’. She didn’t answer him. He swallowed, trying to keep his voice low as he insisted, “You _know_ it isn’t, right?”

Casey opened her mouth and breathed in. “I..." She paused, chewing on her bottom lip. Derek stared at her in disbelief, feeling like peeling his own skin off at the thought of her considering their relationship incestuous. It wasn’t possible that she had been kissing him while having such an opinion. “It’s complicated, Derek.”

He swore he could taste bile in his mouth. His voice sounded slightly bitter when he asked, “What’s complicated? You think this is incest?” 

She sighed, lowering her head to play with the strap of her purse on her lap. “It’s not that... I just..." She shrugged. “We know our story and we know how our family works, but other people don’t. And when they talk about it, it’s suddenly..." she grimaced, “ _incest_ _._ ”

“Fuck them,” he snapped. “Fuck that.”

“Derek..." she began, softly, still avoiding his eyes. “I _know_ that’s not what it is. But sometimes... sometimes it feels like we’re doing something wrong, even if it’s not real. There’s this... pressure. And it’s not just from other people, but our parents. My _mom_.”

Derek felt a twinge of pain in his chest, an eerie feeling that maybe his plan was a failure, a waste of time; that even if he somehow managed to make her fall in love with him, she would never give in for fear of the judgment. Nora’s opinion and approval were more important to her than her own, which he thought was absurdly stupid. It twisted his pain into irritation. 

"And even if this isn't real," she continued, motioning with her hand between them without looking at him, "if she thinks it _is_ and it bothers her, then I'm hurting her. You know?"

"How could this _possibly_ hurt her, Casey? If she feels bad about it, that's her problem, _not_ yours."

"That's selfish."

"That's _very_ selfish," he agreed, "of _her_ to get mad over something that doesn't affect her in any way. It doesn’t make any sense. What if we _were_ together? She'd be deliberately choosing to destroy something that made you happy. That's what you're telling me right now."

When had they begun to discuss something so deep? Derek never dived into questions that danced dangerously close to the territory of feelings, but _he_ had been the one deepening the conversation. He was hypothesizing a situation that would never happen and passionately arguing with her about something that shouldn’t fret him. At least not visibly. Because it didn’t matter if Nora considered their relationship as incest if they weren’t _really_ dating. It wouldn’t affect them. But Casey was discussing the issue with the same fervor as him and he was starting to think that maybe it _did_ affect her. 

Or maybe he was simply projecting his feelings onto her, which seemed befitting of his new personality. Vulnerable, smothered by feelings Derek: a broken shell he couldn’t fix and couldn’t find the willingness to do so. 

Casey clasped her hands over her purse, staring intently at them. He noticed her eyebrows were furrowed. “If the roles were reversed,” she began, “and _George_ was against it, wouldn’t you feel bad about ignoring the way _he_ felt?”

“If it was worth it, no.”

For a long time, he had appeased his father and ignored the way he felt about Casey for fear of the consequences. But at the time, he thought it was simply an attraction, nothing that could be worth the trouble of enraging his dad and ruining their family dynamic. He had even resorted to that kind of thought _after_ figuring out his feelings, but the idea of losing whatever Casey had been able to ignite in him because of their parents’ idealization of a strictly fraternal relationship between them was inconceivable now.

“Even if it destroyed our family?” she insisted. “Our parents’ marriage?”

“Well, if their marriage can be destroyed by something as silly as that, I’m afraid it isn’t as strong as we thought.”

To his surprise, the corners of her mouth curled up into a small smile. She sighed and nodded, finally turning to look at him. “Well, soon we won't have to worry about it anymore. We should think about staging a breakup.”

“A breakup?” he echoed, too tersely for his own good. He masked his disappointment as best as he could, wondering at what point his night had taken such a drastic turn. 

He was feeling elated, but now all he felt was a pitiful frustration. He did not imagine having to talk about a breakup in the night that was supposed to be about celebration—in the middle of his plan to make her fall in love with him. He was sure he was applying the right strategies; he had felt the change in Casey’s behavior towards him ever since Ottawa. She was more open to his touches, more comfortable around him.

“What about French?” he asked, resorting to her rational side. He never thought he would use Truman as a bargaining chip, but there was a saying about desperate times and desperate measures that fit him perfectly right now. 

She blinked as if she had momentarily forgotten about her ex-boyfriend, when he was solely responsible for their relationship. “I can’t spend years lying about a relationship,” she said, letting her eyes land on the steering wheel. “Neither can you. You won’t hold off on... dating or having sex on my account, will you?” A slight blush rose to her cheeks as she said it, but Derek didn't have the energy to tease her about it.

“Can we talk about this another time?” he suggested, hoping she could drop the subject at least for the night. In an attempt to break the seriousness, he added, “A breakup wasn’t exactly in my plans for tonight. You know, considering we’re here to celebrate. It kind of spoils the mood.”

She blinked as though only now realizing the context of their situation, and turned her head partially towards him. “Wow, that was really bad timing.” 

Derek snorted, which caused her to look up at him instinctively with the shadow of a smile playing on her lips. He saw something flicker in her eyes, but couldn’t decipher it even when she stared directly into his. Still, there it was—the undeniable chemistry, that crackling in the air that seemed to accompany them and make itself tangible whenever they allowed silence to step in. He felt his own body gravitating towards her very subtly, but stopped himself, averting his eyes to the bar sign ahead.

“We should go in.” 

Casey cleared her throat, and Derek watched as she silently unfastened her seatbelt and nodded in agreement. If he wasn’t certain about anything else, at least he knew he wasn’t the only one breathing that air freighted with tension. 

“Here.” He stretched his arm to reach for his bag in the backseat and pulled out his varsity jacket, placing it on her lap. Casey looked at him in confusion. “Put it over your head,” he explained, motioning to the rain outside. “I don’t have an umbrella.”

The tension vanished as she shot him a condescending look. “ _Of course_ you don’t. How many times have I told you not to leave without an umbrella?”

“I’m sorry, I don't see _you_ carrying one.”

“Shut up, Derek.”

He grinned victoriously, causing her to roll her eyes and touch the jacket to bring it closer to her face and sniff it. 

“Huh, it doesn’t smell like you haven’t washed it in over a year,” she said in a mock-impressed tone, before opening her door. 

Derek followed suit, rushing towards a spot under the awning of a closed store where Casey was already standing. “I do my laundry every week, you know,” he said defensively, running his palms across his forearms to brush off the cold water droplets. “Plus, you’re in no position to judge.”

She scoffed, returning the jacket to him as soon as she fixed her hair. “Why is that?”

He grabbed the jacket and took a step forward without warning, which made Casey grow instantly alert but remain still. He tried to ignore it as he put his arms around her to hold out the clothing behind her back. He saw her drawing a sharp breath before she tilted her chin up to be able to reach his eyes and he lowered his head in response. His skin wasn’t even touching hers, but he reckoned it might as well be with the manner his body almost tingled due to their proximity.

“I take it you’re not doing your laundry every week, ‘cause I still haven’t gotten my clothes back and you told me you’d wash them.”

A blush began to bloom on her cheeks and instantly brought a toying smile to his lips. Casey’s eyes roved to his mouth for a split second and then she tried to take a step back, only to realize his arms were still surrounding her when her back collided against his hands. He seized the opportunity to finally lay the jacket over her shoulders, letting his hands linger on her back.

“So you’re either not doing your laundry, which is totally understandable when you’re busy with college. _Or_ —”

“I forgot,” she hastened to say, averting her eyes to the side. “To give you back, I mean. I do my laundry twice a week, for your information,” she added, probably feeling confident enough in her patronizing to look him in the eye again. “Your shirt is probably hidden somewhere in the back of my closet, I didn’t even remember it was there.”

“Hmm.” He scanned her face in search of inconsistencies, but it was difficult to discern what she was feeling under the obvious embarrassment. Perhaps she had indeed forgotten to return the clothes, but it seemed improbable considering she was, well, _Casey_. And the idea that she wanted to keep his clothes was particularly exciting. One corner of his mouth quirked up.

Casey huffed, giving his chest a light punch. “Stop doing that! I’ll give them back to you tomorrow.”

“Who said anything about wanting them back? I was just pointing out your hypocrisy.”

She scrunched up her eyebrows. “You don’t want them back?”

“No.”

By the way she continued to stare at him, she was clearly expecting him to elaborate on the matter. He couldn’t exactly tell her he enjoyed the thought of her wearing his shirt to bed, of the fabric clinging to her curves or her scent lingering on it while being aware that it belonged to him. 

“What the hell am I going to do with your clothes, Derek?”

“ _Wear_ them? I don’t think clothes serve another purpose.”

Casey punched his chest a little harder, which only made him smirk and slide his hands up her back to her shoulders. She cocked her head partially, glancing sideways at his touch. 

“Just put this on,” he said, running his hands down her arms over the fabric of the jacket until he could tug on its cuffs. When he lifted his head, she was already staring at his face. “It says ‘I’m here to support my hot amazing boyfriend’ instead of ‘I want to break up with him’.”

Casey visibly relaxed, rolling her eyes before complying and putting her arms through the sleeves of the jacket while he pretended to be accidentally touching her skin as he helped. The piece was obviously too big around her body, but he thought it fit her better than him; not only was she adorable in loose clothing and engulfed in things that belonged to _him_ , but it also brought memories of the last time she wore his clothes. 

If she as much as suspected the fantasies his mind had conjured ever since that day, she would most likely slap him in the face and he wouldn’t even complain. It would be well deserved. He knew those fantasies would never cease, however, especially now that she _owned_ his shirt. 

Part of her hair was now hidden by the collar and he slipped his hands under it to let her locks fall freely over her shoulders. Casey lifted her chin in what seemed to be an involuntary movement and when she realized it brought their faces closer, shied away from his glance. He tugged gently on her hair to make her look at him again and rested his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them gently. “Thanks for coming.”

She blinked, studying his semblance closely, almost as if she was expecting him to be messing with her. 

“And sorry about dinner.”

She swallowed, nodding her head slowly. “Thank you for saying that.”

“Sure, babe,” he quipped, and although her soft expression hardened a bit, it crumbled the second she rolled her eyes. “Come on.” He took her hand and guided her to the bar, noticing how she flinched slightly at the sudden touch. The idea that their discussion had discarded all the progress they had made fretted him for a moment but vanished when her fingers wrapped around his hand.

He pushed the front door of the bar open and it felt like entering another dimension. Maybe it was the sudden change from silence to the music and laughter that overpowered the room and conversations that swirled around. The sharp smell of drinks wafted towards him; it was all so common to him. But Casey’s hand unconsciously squeezing his reminded him that it wasn’t as common to her. 

It wasn’t difficult to spot his friends when they were practically flocking in different parts of the bar with raucous and indistinguishable hollering; a mass of people wearing his team’s colors, chugging beer and celebrating. He saw Harry waving at them from a table near the game area, where his closest friends were now gathered around, and marched towards them, receiving a round of cheers and a side-hug from Harry. 

“Venturi!” he exclaimed, a little louder and chirpier than usual, which indicated his total state of intoxication. “And... Casey! I don’t know your last name. But I’m always glad to see ya.”

Derek patted his back twice, nearly feeling Casey’s uneasiness dissolve when she gave him a smile and took a seat beside Will, silently inviting Derek to join her with a look. She released his hand and he wasn’t certain about the level of intimacy he was allowed to demonstrate between them in front of his friends—he _should_ have paid more attention to the list of rules she gave him,—so he simply moved as closest as possible to her and kept his hands around one of the bottles of beer Logan glided across the table towards him and Casey. 

“I’m just glad you decided to join us,” Will said cunningly. “I thought you’d have better ways to celebrate.”

“Will!” Kyra, Logan’s girlfriend, exclaimed in the middle of a stifled chuckle. “Stop being nasty. I was so excited when Will said you’d come,” she mentioned to Casey in her naturally high-pitched voice. “It’s been such a long time since you watched one of the games. You should’ve told me you’d be there, we could’ve sat together!”

“Oh..." Casey nodded, slightly surprised by the sense of familiarity in Kyra’s voice when they had only talked once a few months ago. “Um... I didn’t know I was going until the last minute, so..."

“Now that she’s Venturi’s _girlfriend_..." Pete completed with a lopsided smile that made Derek roll his eyes. “I’m guessing she’s going to be a regular again, which is great for us.”

His teammates hummed in unison, sarcastic smiles on their lips as if enjoying an inner joke he wasn’t privy to. 

“What do you mean?” Casey asked. 

“Well, you see, Derek’s naturally an asshole,” Logan replied playfully, “but he’s worse when he wants to show off to someone. So, you’re basically making him play better.”

“You don’t need to come up with excuses for not playing as well as I do,” Derek retorted jokingly, eliciting a chorus of ‘ _oohs_ ’ and laughter. 

“Testosterone and male pride aside,” Rebecca, his teammate Toshi’s girlfriend began with an eye-roll, “anyone care to tell me how that happened? Because my boyfriend wasn’t exactly informative,” she added, giving Toshi a playful smack on his shoulder.

“Like I’d _know_ ,” Toshi said ironically. “Venturi's not exactly an open book.”

"How _what_ happened?" Derek asked, taking a sip of beer.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “You two, obviously.”

He noticed Casey shifting in her seat, her leg inevitably brushing his due to their proximity. There was definitely enough space at the table for him to scoot over, but he would rather pretend there wasn’t. 

"It's not really an exciting story," she said, forcing a chuckle and bringing the bottle to her lips. 

Derek placed the beer on the table with a low thud and turned to look at Casey with his eyebrows scrunched up together. "How quickly you dismiss our love, babe," he said in a fake offended tone. 

Casey blushed immediately, which evoked laughter around the table and a shameless smirk from him. It might make him a complete asshole— _Casey_ would certainly say so—but he adored the different shades of red that colored her cheeks, especially when he was responsible for them. It was almost a game by now, theorizing about how many times he could make her flustered with his words or looks and then putting it into practice. His smirks would usually do the trick. 

She looked away when Kyra picked up on Rebecca’s questioning and introduced her own thoughts about the subject, “Yeah, don't get me wrong, but I never thought I'd see the day when Derek settled down for a real relationship."

"Hey, I've had girlfriends before!" he said defensively.

"That’s true,” Casey affirmed with a repressed smile, “he almost left town for one of them."

His friends reacted in sheer disbelief, which Derek couldn’t critique when he _himself_ couldn’t believe his actions regarding Sally. Now that he was older and understood his own feelings, it was easier to pinpoint the incoherence and the foolishness of that plan. 

“Low blow,” he said, gently nudging her elbow with his. 

“Wait, spill,” Pete urged, bending over the table in a conspiratorial way. “Derek, the bitter ogre that’s sitting next to you, was a lousy Nicholas Sparks’ hero wannabe at some point in his life?”

His friends laughed, and to his surprise, so did Casey. She rested her forearms on the table, even leaning in a bit to elaborate on the story. Derek couldn’t even find it in himself to stop her from revealing private information about his life, because he was rejoicing in the fact that she was fitting in; that she was comfortable in his world; that they seemed like a couple talking about embarrassing stories from the past to tease each other. He didn’t even realize he was staring at her profile until she looked at him with arched eyebrows.

“What?”

“I asked you a question, Venturi,” Harry said, tilting his bottle down to point at him, but almost spilling the liquid on the table. Toshi snatched the bottle out of his hand and placed it on the table. “Why didn’t you leave town?”

“Casey.”

The answer came out so naturally that it surprised his friends— _and_ himself. Despite being certain that he wouldn’t have followed her advice if _he_ didn’t think his plan to be stupid, he knew _she_ had planted the idea in his mind. Only his words were basically assuming that she was the reason he hadn’t left. Which, in hindsight, wasn’t so far from the truth. 

“She has this thing for meddling in people’s businesses,” he joked, turning to Casey to tease her with one of his smirks and put his arm around her shoulders. But upon seeing the slight touch of awe in her eyes, he couldn’t help a soft smile. “That’s the only time I actually appreciated her annoying intromission.”

Casey gasped. “ _Annoying_?”

“ _Extremely_ annoying,” he asserted, incapable of refraining himself before planting a light kiss on her lips. He obviously hadn’t thought about it, but he was allowed to do it. _Right?_ He could use her rules against her if she tried to complain about it, he was almost sure there was something about kissing in front of their friends. He _really_ shouldn't have skimmed over that list. 

Casey flinched subtly, but he reckoned it wouldn’t seem evident to anyone else since she composed herself the second she jerked her head back and gave him a coy smile. _Great_ , now he wanted to do it again.

“Aww,” Logan mocked amusedly, “if Derek’s throwing away his PDA rules, it’s serious, guys.”

“You guys are _so_ adorable,” Rebecca said, clinging to Toshi’s arm with a dreamy look.

“Wait,” Kyra said, “so if you basically gave up on your plans for Casey, does that mean you already had feelings for her? Because _that’s_ adorable.”

Pete choked on his beer, making a funny noise that prompted Rebecca to help him with heavy pats on his back. If Derek had been drinking, he would have probably done the same. He felt his body stiffen instantly; he _definitely_ didn’t think his night would have started with the threat of a fake breakup only for his teammate’s girlfriend to expose him in front of Casey minutes later.

“Was that inappropriate?” Kyra asked no one in particular, although she looked at Logan for approval. 

Derek didn’t know whether it would have been better to answer her—what was he even _supposed_ to say?—or to have his thoughts interrupted upon the arrival of Truman. He was accompanied by Tom and Julie, but Derek’s aversion to them was overshadowed by the pure hatred he felt towards Casey's ex. 

He felt his blood boiling under his skin, muscles tightening instinctively; many were the times when he saw him on campus and thought about connecting his fist to his face, especially after his last interaction with Casey at the festival. He suggested reporting him countless times, but Casey claimed he hadn’t tried to reach out to her anymore. It didn’t make Derek any less worried, but he respected her wish. Yet he saw the way Truman looked at her when they crossed paths with him around campus; he could see the way his eyes were set on her like a hunter studying their prey _now_.

“Hey, what the fuck is French doing here?” Derek asked in a passive-aggressive manner as the man approached the table with his friends. 

Truman smirked. "That's a bit rude, Derek."

“I invited him,” Logan said, darting his eyes between them in clear puzzlement. “Weren’t we all... friends?”

“Holding grudges is never good for you, Der,” Julie advised, walking around the table to land a hand on his shoulder. 

He cringed, unconsciously moving closer to Casey while still aware of the fact that their bodies were practically glued by now. He wondered if Truman had told Julie about their past, and by the way Casey tensed under his touch, she had a similar concern. 

Julie flashed him a cunning smile and then leaned in until her lips were near his ear. “You’ve got what you wanted, didn’t you? Everyone is happy.”

“What?”

She patted his shoulder twice. “Casey.”

He turned his head to her, frowning. Was Truman under the impression that their mutual hatred was based on Derek wanting Casey? He wondered if he even acknowledged the fact that he had not only cheated but sexually assaulted her. That single reminder made him grit his teeth and shoot Truman a lethal look, briefly fantasizing about finishing what he had started at the festival. 

“I thought there were no more hard feelings,” Truman said, finding a seat next to Rebecca, right across from them. 

Julie finally removed her hand from Derek’s shoulder and took a seat beside Tom, who had pulled two chairs next to Harry. 

Derek noticed Casey looking at him sideways, hesitating before leaning into his side and placing her hand on his knee under the table. Completely taken aback by her reaction and the gentle squeeze she gave his knee, he felt his body relaxing under her warm touch. He tightened his arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

"Okay, now you have to tell us," Kyra urged in a tone that resembled one of those gossip show’s hosts trying to extract information out of celebrities. 

“Tell you _what_?” Derek asked, more bitterly than necessary. Gladly, Kyra was too enshrouded in curiosity to notice it. 

“What’s happening here,” she explained, gesturing with her hand in the air, creating an invisible line between Derek and Truman. Logan reached for Kyra’s hand and squeezed it gently as he cast her a meaningful look, which didn’t seem to affect her in any way. 

"Nothing to tell," Derek stated, taking a swig of his beer as casually as possible while keeping eye contact with Truman. 

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Truman countered with a devilish smile. "We have quite a history."

The devious glint in Truman’s eyes worried Derek for a moment. He never cared for what other people thought about him, but his thoughts were now on Casey’s reaction if Truman decided to tell their friends they were step-siblings. Their conversation in the car was still fresh in his memory and he would rather forget it instead of having _Truman_ , of all people, taunting Casey with it. He certainly wouldn’t mind hurting her, having done it before countless times. 

Casey’s hand squeezed his knee even tighter and he realized his body was stiff again; he slowly relaxed his muscles and suppressed the urge to ball his hands into fists. 

"So maybe you can finally help us solve the mystery," Julie said, but her tone wasn’t as poisonous as he would have expected. She bit her bottom lip and leaned forward to fold her arms on the table, setting her eyes on Casey. “I’m really curious.” 

"Who invited her here? Was that you too, Logan?" Will asked in annoyance, to which Julie flashed him her middle finger.

“Okay, first of all, how do you all know each other?” Rebecca asked. 

“High school,” Truman replied, pursing his lips and squinting his eyes as though he was in deep thought. “We were all... how can I say this? _Connected._ Derek and Casey a little more.”

Derek clenched his jaw. His fingers wrapped around the sleeve of Casey’s jacket, pressing her even closer to him, as if the action could somehow protect her from Truman’s words. Because _he_ certainly couldn’t. If he tried to retort, Truman might feel even more motivated to ruin that night.

“Small world,” Toshi commented.

“ _Too_ small,” Derek muttered under his breath. 

“This is getting boring,” Will complained, moving his arm to sling it around Pete’s shoulders. Derek thought his reaction was surprising since meddling in people’s lives and coaxing information out of them for his entertainment was almost a hobby. But when he cast Derek a cryptic look, he reckoned he was simply trying to help. “I’d rather listen to Julie talking about stock markets.”

“Who _are_ you?” Harry joked. “Where’s William?”

Kyra turned to Derek and Casey with an affable smile. “So you two go _way_ back?”

“Yeah,” Casey spoke up for the first time, and Derek noticed how Truman’s cunning eyes were glued to her again. "Since we were fifteen. I moved to London and then... I met Derek.”

“You’ve been friends all this time?”

“Not exactly.”

"Oooh." Rebecca smiled, taking a swig of her drink. "Enemies to lovers? You two are adorable.”

"When did you realize you actually had feelings for each other?" Kyra pried, her eyes sparkling expectantly at them both, probably expecting Derek to confirm her doubts about him nurturing feelings for Casey before college.

Derek scratched the back of his neck, uneasy. Those questions weren’t only inappropriate—and he wasn't surprised when he had witnessed Toshi and Rebecca being bombarded by Kyra's improper questions after starting their relationship,—but extremely dangerous. Casey’s hand was still firmly placed on his knee and now he was insanely aware of his entire body pressed against her side.

Truman watched the situation unraveling before his eyes with an amused expression on his face, almost challenging him to answer the question, only to ruin it with an unpleasant revelation. Derek searched his brain for something to say, but he didn’t even _know_ when it had started. It felt like it had always been there. Attraction, infatuation and then love—it all happened too fast for him to pinpoint the starting line. 

Harry let out a boisterous laugh, messing Derek’s hair as though he were his big brother. “Look at him, he’s shy!”

He batted at Harry’s arm. “I’m not shy, you piece of shit.” 

"Truman, spill," Kyra said with a sigh. "Do you know anything?"

Truman looked at Kyra for a brief moment, a rehearsed friendly smile on his face as he nodded his head. “Yeah, got a lot of stories about them.”

“If you have any embarrassing stories, I’m all ears,” Logan said with a chuckle.

“I might have some,” Truman said, the haughty posture he held emphasizing how he savored that little victory. “Others not so much embarrassing as they are... _interesting_.”

“How about we don’t take a trip down memory lane now?” Derek suggested, trying to maintain his tone as cordial as possible, although it made him want to throw up. Whether he liked it or not, Truman held all the power over them now.

“Don’t be a buzzkill, Derek,” Truman said, grinning at him. “There are some nice stories. For example,” he began, turning to his avid public, “the day Derek decided he suddenly cared about Casey. I was surprised, to say the least, to see him acting so protective of someone he supposedly hated.”

“You know what they say about love and hate,” Kyra chimed in. 

“True,” he conceded, nodding his head. “Or maybe I just wasn’t seeing things the way they were. At first, I thought he was just looking out for her, you know... like maybe a brother would do?”

Casey’s fingers flexed against his knee, her nails digging into his skin through his jeans. The pain barely bothered him; he couldn’t take his eyes off of Truman, who was too busy darting his eyes around the table to entertain his crowd. 

“Because I knew he didn’t _really_ hate her,” he resumed. “He was quite obsessed with her, actually.”

The revelation evoked a few chuckles from his audience, except for Will and Pete. It took Derek a surreal grip on reality, reminding him that Casey was right beside him, not to stand up and pull Truman by his collar and punch him until he was unconscious.

“ _Casey_ was another story.” He turned to look at her, daring to flash her a smile. “If you saw them together in the halls, they were fighting. If they weren’t fighting, it was because Derek was acting nice before pulling a prank. When _that_ happened, they would fight the next day in the halls again. It made you crazy, remember, Case?”

Derek felt heat radiating from his veins to the extremities of his body. His jaw was taut, one hand firmly grasping his bottle like it could break it into tiny pieces, while the other wrapped around Casey’s arm. No one seemed to notice it, however, because Truman’s provocation could only be read between the lines; to everyone else, it sounded like a fun description of their relationship.

“It was just their dynamic, I guess,” he continued, shrugging. “I'll never understand, though. He definitely made her cry more times than she’d admit.”

The mood changed drastically as the tension returned like a tidal wave and his friends’ gazes darted around awkwardly with no signs of humor. Derek was aware of the seething rage growing inside of him, but it was battling with the twinge of guilt that twisted his stomach now; he was also aware that Casey was now slowly pulling away from him, withdrawing her hand from his knee, and it felt like a punch to his gut.

He wanted to interrupt Truman, but there was nothing he could say for himself that might redeem him and his actions from the past. He knew his pranks and jokes provoked anger in her since it was always his goal; it motivated her to strike back and maintain their little game. He could never have imagined that he made her cry; had he known about it, he would have stopped. Another pang of guilt hit him as he imagined that she wouldn’t have trusted him; she wouldn’t have been able to tell him he hurt her, for she probably thought it would only amuse and encourage him.

“And there’s the whole issue with their parents,” Truman said, pinching his lips in fake compassion.

“What issue?” Julie pried, genuinely curious. 

He hadn’t told her, then. Truman’s game was perfectly clear now; he wouldn’t reveal anything unless he was confronted. His only goal was to taunt them, to relish the fact that he could debunk them with the information he had. Derek raised his eyes to meet Truman’s and imagined they transpired every single emotion that was gnawing painfully at him, especially fury.

“My parents don’t want me to date him,” Casey replied hastily, voice slightly brittle.

“Um..." Pete began, clearly trying to ease the tension that had arisen. “You know, maybe we should respect them and... talk about something else. Like... Will?” He tried, looking at Will, who was staring at Truman with squinted eyes.

“I don’t like you,” Will snarled. “Would you kindly get your fucking ass out of here?”

Truman chuckled sarcastically under his breath, nodding before locking eyes with Derek once again, nearly challenging him. “Alright.” He stood up and smiled at Will. “I appreciate your honesty. Some people could use more of that,” he jeered, casting a last look at Casey before walking away.

The silence that followed his leaving was almost unbearable. All he could hear for a few seconds were the background music and the sounds of unintelligible chatting across the bar. Julie stood up abruptly and looked over to the direction where Truman had gone before glancing at Casey. Curiously, her semblance wasn’t smug as usual, neither was it soft—it was a mix of both, somehow. Derek frowned. 

“There’s a little jealousy playing a big part,” she said. "Don't take it too personally." Then, as if realizing she had offered the slightest bit of compassion, she stuck her nose in the air and looked at Tom. “Come on, Tommy.”

“Sorry about that,” Tom uttered, standing up to encircle Julie’s shoulders and guide her towards the bar. 

Will scoffed in disbelief. “Did I just hallucinate that bitch being..." He grimaced, even making his body tremble in a childish demonstration of disgust. “Nice?”

“We got Julie being a decent person for a second and Derek playing well, this night just can’t stop surprising me,” Pete joked, clearly trying to lighten the mood as he added a chuckle that instigated the others to follow. 

But Derek remained still, unable to react and unsure of what to say or do. He couldn’t even respond to Truman’s accusations, even if to prevent Casey from feeling embarrassed. Pete said something to him, and he looked relatively more relaxed, but Derek didn’t hear his words. Apparently, they had decided the subject was over, and while he appreciated his friends’ support, he needed to react. 

As the conversation progressed and everyone else—except for him and Casey—gradually chimed in, restoring the mood with laughter, Casey stood up as subtly as possible and left without warning. _Now is your time to react, idiot_ _._ He took a deep breath and shook himself out of his trance, quietly leaving his place at the table to follow her.

She was standing in the bar now, back turned to him and hands placed on top of the counter. He stopped a few steps away from her, mentally preparing himself to watch every word that came out of his mouth, because he was absolutely certain that she was about to cry. 

“Case.”

Her body stiffened for a moment and she waited a couple of seconds before turning to him with what he thought to be the best neutral expression she could manage to hide her distress. But he could see her eyes glistening with tears and the tension in her jaw as she forced a smile. 

“Do you want something?” she asked, motioning for the bar.

Derek tipped his head to the side, the familiar cut-the-crap kind of look in his eyes. Casey took a step back until her back collided with the edge of the counter and Derek instantly stepped forward. She held his hesitant stare for a surprising amount of time but shied away when the silence became excruciating. 

He warily drew closer to her, while still respecting her space. “You know...” he began, pausing the moment she turned her eyes to him again, which made everything even more difficult, as usual. He scratched the back of his neck and then dragged his eyes to the counter. “When I pulled pranks, I just... I wasn’t..."

Derek hated the awkwardness of that stuttering version of himself. He always had his words at the tip of his tongue, always confident in himself; now even his posture looked less bold. He simply didn’t do well with feelings, and it was exceptionally ironic when he had made it his main purpose to let her know how he felt. It was so much easier to hide behind his teasing and sarcasm. 

“Fuck.” He let out a frustrated sigh, looking at her again. “I did it to get you riled up, but... not to hurt you. _Never_ to hurt you.”

She shook her head. “He was just making it out to be bigger than it was.”

“Casey.”

“Don’t you see what he’s trying to do, Derek?” she said, sighing in exhaustion. “He’s trying to get to us, to paint _you_ as the bad guy.”

“Well, maybe the fuck’s not wrong this time,” he said, almost wincing when the words poked at his pride. “There’s a reason you hated me.”

Casey opened her mouth to say something but clammed it up a second later. He grew slightly anxious when he noticed her eyes brimming with tears again, rethinking his own words to understand what could have upset her. 

“Derek, you..." she began, but nothing followed when he leaned forward expectantly.

“What?”

“I never hated you,” she said softly, crossing her arms around her torso and letting her eyes drop to his chest. “I thought... well, I... I thought you knew that.”

He most definitely _didn’t_. He had been living under the impression that Casey had despised him for at least two years after meeting her, which made her words sound even more important to him. He scratched his neck again, out of habit, since her eyes were still firm on his chest. Derek was starting to notice that Casey felt just as uneasy as him when she talked about her own feelings regarding him, which was unusual for someone who openly expressed her feelings to anyone. She never stuttered around him unless he was teasing her and that conversation was as serious as one could be.

He could blame it on the natural awkwardness of their odd relationship—they had _never_ been as open with each other as in the last couple of weeks—but a part of him wanted to attribute it to the same feeling that always stopped him from saying what he really meant.

“You _were_ immature,” Casey resumed. “But so was I sometimes. And you were always by my side when I needed it.” She tightened her arms around her torso, tensing her shoulders. “You’re... you’re just... you’re really important to me, Derek.”

Her words hit him like gentle raindrops on his skin on a warm day—his own personal spring rain—creating tendrils of warmth inside his chest. He was actively trying to remember the last time someone said something as simple and affectionate to him, to no avail. 

Contrary to his assumption, she dared to look at him again and Derek held her gaze despite the uncomfortableness he felt; no, it wasn’t the kind that made him want to recoil and escape as soon as possible, but the kind that made him _feel_ ; feel needed and good, important and somehow loved. And he didn’t know what to do with so many emotions.

 _You’re important to me too you’re important to me too you’re important to me too_ , the words circled around his mind like a broken CD with no pause and no room for denial, just like his asphyxiating cluster of feelings. Suddenly his heart was throbbing against his chest and his skin began to prickle from the inside. All he had to do was say the words.

_Just. Fucking. Say. It._

“Uh... you...”

To his surprise, Casey smiled; she nodded her head and looked to the side. “Don’t worry, I’m not expecting you to say anything,” she said. “Let’s just put everything in the past. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Derek swallowed, suppressing a groan when he realized his seconds had passed; it was a little late to say something now without sounding like a creep. “Well, it still hurts you.”

“No.” She shook her head, unfolding her arms. “I promise it doesn’t. It’s not you. It’s _him_. I’m just feeling... _mad_. And _stupid. God,_ I’m so fucking stupid,” she said, tapping her palm against her forehead.

“Casey, you’re not stupid.”

“You _warned_ me about him, Derek,” she argued, her forehead puckering as her eyes sparkled with more tears. “I _knew_ he was a jerk from the moment he stepped in that school rating girls and thinking he could do as he pleased. But I ignored that. _Why_ did I ignore that?”

Derek sighed, carefully approaching the counter to stand by her side. Leaning his elbow on top of the wooden surface, he angled his body to her and she promptly mirrored him. It hurt to see her broken; he wanted to wipe her tears away, erase the memories that were probably gnawing at her, the pain that Truman had inflicted on her. He would always carry the guilt of helping Truman get back together with her, regardless of how many times she assured him he wasn't to blame. 

“You’re good,” he said, softly, unsure if she had heard him at first considering the volume of the music playing in the background mixed with loud voices. But when she shifted her eyes to his chest, which by now was officially her safe alternative every time she wanted to escape his gaze, he knew she understood his words. “And you think everyone around you is like you. Even if they’re not, you just give them a second chance.”

“And that’s really stupid,” she insisted.

“Well... you gave _me_ a second chance. Or a _few_. That was a smart move,” he said playfully.

She ran the back of her hand across her cheeks and looked up at him with a weak smile. “But you _are_ good.”

He tilted his head to the side, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. It was frustrating how compliments from other people only boosted his ego, but Casey’s reached deeper, penetrated his walls and prodded at his heart. She genuinely believed he was good. And it was making it harder for him not to kiss her right then. He moved his arm over the counter, just until his hand could brush the sleeve of her jacket. She held his gaze nonetheless, and he presumed she wasn’t aware of his touch. 

“I just want to be as far away from him as possible,” she said. 

“ _That_ I can get behind.” His hand moved closer to her arm and she finally noticed it, drifting her eyes to where his fingers were now squeezing her comfortingly. “He’s not going to tell anyone, don’t worry.”

She looked at him again, nodding her head and hesitating before letting her eyes wander somewhere among the sea of people at the bar. Her expression twisted into repentance. “I’m sorry, this is supposed to be a night for celebration.” She glanced at him and motioned with her chin towards their table. “You can go back, I just need a minute—”

“I have a better idea,” he cut her off, sliding his hand down her forearm to grab her hand and pull her towards the moderately big area attached to the bar reserved for games.

“Wait, are we playing pool?” she pried. “You said you didn’t do cliches, Derek. And I know how to play it, so no need to teach me.”

“I know, that’s why we’re playing something I _have_ to teach you,” he retorted impishly. 

A half-wall divided the game into two parts: one for table games and one for social games, equipped with bean bags and musical artifacts decorating the walls. Derek led her to the latter, which was usually less crowded and much quieter than the other. There were only four people playing a game of cards, too involved in their lively conversation to notice them.

“You’re playing darts today,” he announced, moving to grab three darts that were lying on top of the nearest empty table.

“Because _of course_ you know how to play,” she said sarcastically. 

He smirked, positioning himself in front of the dartboard. The restoring of the lightheartedness in their banter left him relieved. “ _Of course_. With me being amazing at everything and all.”

"I believe I said you were _good_ , not amazing."

"I'm pretty sure you meant _amazing_."

She hummed in mockery, but watched silently as he threw his darts with agility and precision; one of them missed the bullseye by meager centimeters. As a child, he used to be obsessed with darts; George even bought him a dartboard for his seventh birthday and taught him how to play the way _his_ father had taught him. It was a nice memory he recollected whenever he played it.

“You’re just showing off.”

He calmly removed the darts from the target and walked up to her with a crooked smile. “You need to know how _amazing_ your coach is,” he said, holding one dart in front of her face. 

Casey snorted and grabbed the front of her jacket—technically _his_ , but he was already considering giving it to her—to take it off. He cocked his eyebrows at the movement but observed it closely with amusement. She folded the jacket properly before placing it on the nearest table. 

“It’s hot in here?” Derek teased, to which she rolled her eyes and snagged one dart out of his hand, moving to stand a few meters away from the center of the target on the wall. He put the remaining two in his pocket, smiling. “Yeah, that’s not going to work.” He approached her from behind to hold her shoulders and gently turn her body to face the dartboard sideways. Casey winced subtly at his touch. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” She swung her head to the side, probably an unconscious movement, for when he pressed his chest flush against her back they were even closer. 

He retrieved his hands from her shoulders and dropped them to her hips, which made her freeze for an instant. “Feet apart,” he instructed. 

She let out a deep breath and nodded, turning her head away from him as she repositioned her feet on the floor. "Derek?”

“What?”

Ready to be scolded, he withdrew his hands but was surprised to feel her body relaxing against his chest. “I just feel bad that you’re not enjoying your night the way you wanted to," she said.

"What way would that be?"

"With... other people." Her hesitance was a clear sign that she wasn’t talking about his friends—at least not _only_ about them. It would have been comical and an easy target for his mockery if their conversation in the car hadn’t existed; she would continue to insist on the breakup and he didn’t know how to stop it. 

"I happen to enjoy darts. Now move a little,” he said, letting his hand ghost over her right thigh. Hearing her suck in her breath helped him brush his thoughts aside for a moment. “This foot forward, pointing at the center of the target.”

Casey obliged, fumbling with the dart in her hand until she was able to hold it by its barrel. “But you can’t date,” she reminded him.

Derek sighed quietly, which, he realized, made her quiver when his breath reached her neck. His eyes instinctively stopped at the exposed skin there, causing him to briefly fantasize about making a trail of kisses from her neck up to her jaw. He cleared his throat, darting his eyes to her hand.

"Mhmm. Don’t put too much pressure,” he said, stretching his arm over hers to touch her fingers and make her loosen her grip around the barrel. Her hand was oddly cold, considering it was warm inside the bar. 

"I, uh... I've been thinking about it," she insisted. 

“Didn’t we just say we weren’t going to talk about it?”

"I’m not talking about... _that_. Breaking up, I mean,” she clarified in a whisper, even checking the room around them to make sure no one could listen, which would be impossible considering they were meters away from the only people present. 

“What are you talking about, then?”

"That... you should go out sometimes... on _your own._ ”

He hummed in a noncommittal way, realizing that he was still touching her hand, frozen in that same position, even though she had already adjusted her grip on the dart. 

“And do whatever you want," she added.

"You mean hook up?"

"Yeah."

He finally let go of her hand to grab her elbow, gingerly bending it so that the dart was raised to her eye level. “It should be aligned,” he explained, running his hand up her arms to her shoulder and then back to her hand, creating an invisible path that made goosebumps line her skin. "I kind of feel like you think I only go out to get laid," he said humorously.

She shook her head as if to get her hair out of her face but he heard her let out a shaky breath. “I know how men work, Derek.”

He chuckled under his breath, moving his hand to tilt the tip of her dart slightly upward. “Close your left eye and use the right one to look at the board to aim.” He let go of her hand, adding, “I can survive without sex, Case.”

When he stared at her hand, he realized it was trembling slightly. It was a shame he couldn’t see her face because he reckoned it was tinged crimson. 

“I’m... just saying you don’t have to.” 

Without context, that sentence would become suddenly dangerous. Or maybe it was his own twisted mind disrupting her words. 

“Pull your hand back a little and throw it,” he advised, finally stepping back to give her an appropriate space to throw the dart. “People think I’m dating _you_.”

Casey threw the first dart, but her aim was comically terrible and it collided against the wall, at least thirty centimeters from the outer ring of the target, before falling to the floor. 

“Wow, that was terrible,” he mocked with a chuckle, pulling another dart from his pocket to hand it to her. 

She positioned herself according to his instructions and sighed. “I’m not saying go hook up with every girl from Queen's,” she retorted, throwing the dart in a movement that made it cross its path in an arc directly to the floor. She groaned, stretching her hand for him to give her another one. “Just find girls who don’t know us, it’s not that hard.”

“Keep your shoulder still when you throw,” he advised. Casey took a deep breath and analyzed the dartboard for a few seconds before throwing the dart one more time, managing to hit the edge of the target. “No points, but better.”

“ _No points_?” she whined. 

“You almost hit the wall again. You’re supposed to hit the _target_ , that big black circle up there. I should’ve started my lesson with that.”

She groaned again. “Give me another one.”

“You know you’re supposed to throw only three, right?”

“I don’t care.”

His mouth curled up into a smile. “Of course you don’t.” He swiftly collected the darts and handed them to her, standing aside to watch her second attempt. 

She followed his instructions again, repositioning her body and correcting her posture as she studied the target and took her time to throw the first dart. Her aim had definitely improved, but she wasn’t applying enough strength to make the dart stuck into the target. She sighed in frustration, grabbing the second dart.

“You keep worrying about other people all the time,” he mentioned, staring intently at her profile as she persisted—admirably, may he add—and failed again. “If I felt like going out on my own I would’ve done it. I’m the last person you need to worry about. And you’re letting your wrist snap downward,” he added, approaching her from behind one more time. 

“You don’t need to—" she began, voice slightly higher, but paused the second she turned to him and noticed how close they were. Tilting her chin up to reach his eyes, she swallowed, startled. She was naturally shorter than him, but he felt unusually taller when he had to lower his head to hold her gaze. “—stand so close,” she finished in a small voice.

There were mere centimeters keeping them apart, but he could feel the heat radiating from her, a magnetic force calling him to move closer. 

He smirked. “Oh. So _that’s_ what’s making you nervous.”

Her jaw fell open. “I’m not nervous!”

“You’re shaking,” he pointed out. “Which might be making you play worse than you normally would, by the way. But don’t worry, it’s totally normal. It happens to a lot of girls when they’re around me, trust me.”

Casey narrowed her eyes, ignoring the color that suffused her cheeks when she pressed her index finger against his chest. “I’m not one of your airhead groupies.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean you’re immune to the Venturi charm.”

She gasped, reviled, taking a step forward menacingly to force him to move. He planted his feet firmly on the floor, grinning when all she managed to do was bring their bodies even closer. He had missed their old familiar dance of intimidation, another aspect of their old dynamic. It had been months since they had an argument that ended up with their noses practically touching, menacing stares on Casey’s side and taunting smirks on Derek’s. But it wasn’t charged with the air of immature challenge anymore, if not by a flirtatious one. Maybe it had always been there, but it was strikingly blatant now.

“Oh, I _am_ ,” she affirmed. “Trust me, four years of living with you made me _completely_ immune.”

“I don’t know,” he said, crinkling his nose, “I already told you. You seem to enjoy yourself when you kiss me.”

Casey stared at him, annoyed. The pink on her cheeks was turning into a deeper shade and he couldn’t help but find it funny. She smacked her fist into his chest, making him chuckle. “You’re _delusional_ , Derek.”

“ _Am_ I? I think I can tell when a girl is enjoying a kiss. Sure, it could be just getting caught up in the moment, it happens. But for _that_ to happen, there has to be at least a little bit of attraction.”

She opened her mouth, but her skepticism was so evident that she couldn’t even think of a proper insult to throw at him. He was starting to feel— _slightly_ —sorry for her, but was distracted by his own thoughts. He wondered what her reaction would be if he kissed her now to prove his theory; if she would push him away and decide that they should end it for good or indulge and kiss him back with the same fierceness she did in Ottawa. He had been wishing for an opportunity like that. 

“I’m not attracted to you!”

“Not a cool thing to say to your boyfriend,” he quipped.

“You’re _not_ my boyfriend.”

“Keep it down, babe.” 

“ _Don’t call me babe_ ,” she whisper-shouted. “You’re not as irresistible as you think you are, Derek.”

He felt his smirk reappearing on his lips and saw her eyes shifting to his mouth. “Well, we can test this theory right now.”

“I’m not kissing you.”

“I heard that one before.”

He saw a muscle twitching in her jaw and tilted his chin down to touch her forehead with his, challenging her with his brazen stare. She swallowed, standing as still as possible; despite his body urging him to hold her closer, he wouldn’t touch her until she gave in—and if the almost unbearable tension swerving around them was any indication, it wouldn’t be long until she did. 

“But sure, if you think you might lose control, it’s better if you don’t do it,” he added.

Derek thought it was very commendable of her when she composed herself and lifted her eyebrows defiantly. “Reverse psychology, Derek? _Really_? Is this the best you can do?”

He gasped in fake incredulity. “ _Casey_! If I didn’t know you any better I’d say you’re trying to seduce me.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Very clever.”

“Thank you.” He moved his head until his nose touched hers, which made her close her eyes for a second. His eyes went straight to her lips, unfairly inviting, and he closed his hands into fists to refrain himself from losing his own game and grabbing her face to kiss her until he had to come up for air. “Is it working?”

“No,” she denied, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. He didn’t know whether it was just an involuntary reaction or if she was legitimately partaking in the challenge now, but he felt a primitive growl forming in his throat with the urge to bite it himself. 

A wave of heat emerged inside him, twisting his playful need to tease her into a mix of hunger and frustration—he had clearly underestimated her and overestimated his own capacity to be patient. He ducked his head to nuzzle her cheek, inhaling her scent, to which she shuddered. His need to touch her was so overwhelming now that he couldn’t even appreciate his small victory. 

“Come on, Case,” he prodded in a rusty voice that usually worked on girls and proved itself effective when she sighed helplessly into the crook of his neck. “What’s so bad about admitting that you like kissing me? I told you... if we’re playing a part, we might as well enjoy it.”

Her hands suddenly grasped his shoulders and, for a moment, he was under the impression that she was about to shove him. But she simply squeezed them, and when he jerked his head back to look at her, she had her eyes fixed on her right hand, flustered. 

“Hmm?” he pressed.

When she finally locked eyes with him, he felt the weight of her decision in a thrilling pang in his stomach. It wasn’t only that, but that rush of affection that overwhelmed him at the most random times like a bittersweet reminder that he loved her. Sometimes it filled up his chest until he feared it would overflow.

She moved one hand to his chest and slowly slid it up until she could hook her fingers around the collar of his shirt, exactly like she had done at the restaurant. He felt the same thrill from before, the same adrenaline that made his body feel warmer than usual and crave her touch. But he certainly wasn’t expecting her to pull him down so roughly to seal his lips with hers, which drew a sound of surprise out of his mouth. He had barely composed himself to deepen the kiss when she pulled back. 

Her hands dropped to her sides while his hung mid-air, having frozen before he could lead them to her waist. She raised her eyebrows and offered him a conceited smile, which compelled him into letting his arms down and assuming a stoic expression.

“There,” she said, satisfied. “Your theory is bullshit.”

Derek nodded slowly, licking his lips to taste her lip gloss. _Mango._ It was an odd thing to notice and he definitely had never paid attention to it when he kissed other girls before, but he was undeniably addicted to tasting those different sweet flavors on her mouth. Sometimes they were talking or studying and he would randomly play mental games with himself, trying to guess which flavor she had chosen that day by the color on her lips—and wondering how it would taste on his tongue. 

The thought enhanced his need to properly kiss her, but he took his time to witness her facade cracking as he took a step back and rejoiced in the way her expression twisted from smugness to poorly disguised disappointment. He studied her face intently, long enough to make her blush, and finally wrapped his hand around her wrist without warning.

“Derek, what are you doing?”

He took her to the narrow corridor behind the game room that led to the restrooms reserved for employees and pushed her against the wall. Casey gasped, the sound creating an odd, yet titillating feeling of _dejá vù_ ; it was night, they were in his room and she was pressed against his door with the same yearning he could see hiding behind her blue eyes now. It was alluring. There was something wildly hot about watching her struggle with her own desire.

“If you’re going to do it, do it right,” he said, placing his hands on the wall behind her on each side of her head as he leaned forward to stare at her mouth. The last thing he noticed was her chest rising and falling rapidly against his and then his mouth was closing over hers hungrily, filled with a passionate intensity that resulted from the pent-up craving combined with her teasing.

She responded instantly as her body arched to meet his and her lips followed his lead, moving in perfect synchrony with him. He waited for her hands to touch him, but after a few seconds, it was more than clear that she was refusing to do so, probably trying to prove him a point even after her defeat, which was incredibly funny to him—and equally motivating. 

Derek moved one hand to grab the hair at the nape of her neck, while the other squeezed her waist. She sighed into his mouth and he slowed down the kiss for a moment, waiting for her touch again, but receiving nothing in return. 

Reassessing his options, he broke the kiss and lowered his head to trail teasing kisses across her jaw. The familiar smell of her vanilla invaded his nostrils and he sighed. She shivered. He smiled against her warm skin; although slightly frustrated, he admired her strength—he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself for such a long time if _she_ had been the one teasing him. He slowly grazed her cheek with his nose to make his way back to her mouth, where she welcomed him promptly with a low moan. 

Derek was quickly losing himself in her, but also losing his sanity the longer she made him wait. He wasn’t sure what she was trying to prove when her body was just as surrendered to his as his was to hers. He wanted to explore her skin further, allow her to do the same to him, set his own heart aflame with the scolding feeling inside. 

There was nothing but the sound of their heavy breaths mixing and his own heart pounding against his ears when he pressed his hips against hers and she finally gave up, looping her arms around his neck to clutch his hair. He groaned involuntarily, unable to stop himself when he ran the tip of his tongue across her lips. She didn’t even hesitate before allowing him in and he groaned once again the moment her tongue entwined with his and the explosion of flavors he was expecting happened—a blissful and delicious mix of mango, beer and Casey. 

It was all too quick, too electric and the more determined the kiss became, the more curious about her limits—and his own—he became as well. Her hands went to his face and his encircled her waist and met on her back, ready to slide down to her thighs and lift her up, but he stopped himself when he finally comprehended what they were doing. 

She wasn’t a stranger he met at the bar who was willing to occupy her time with no feelings attached. If anything, there were _a lot_ of feelings attached, at least on his part, and even if she somehow _were_ to follow through with the ideas in his mind he wouldn’t want to do it in the restroom of a bar. Besides, his excitement was dangerously close to a physical reaction. 

The thought made him retreat more abruptly than intended, which startled her. He could feel his pulse everywhere, almost making his heartbeat sound like a sequence of overlapped thuds. Casey stared at him in astonishment, panting and flustered; her lips were swollen and red from his kisses, nearly inviting him to taste her again. It wasn’t helping his case, however, and he forced his eyes to focus hers. He ran a palm across his face. 

“I guess we have a verdict,” he managed to say lightheartedly, but all she did was blink at him.

As if needing her own time to absorb what was happening, she straightened her body against the wall and raised her hand to gently wipe her mouth. Her incapacity to give him a remark made him soften his expression and take a step forward.

“Hey,” he said tenderly, “it’s fine, Case.”

“You can’t just... _kiss me_ , Derek,” she retorted frantically, moving away from the wall.

“Technically, _you_ kissed me before.”

She let out an incredulous sound. “That’s not the same! You can’t... do _that_.” 

“It didn’t say so in your list of rules.”

“Yes, _it did_.”

“I’m pretty sure there was something about kissing in public,” he insisted. 

She opened her arms addressing the empty corridor with wide eyes; he couldn’t help but laugh lightly. “ _Are we in public, Derek_?”

“It’s a public _establishment._ And I was trying to prove a point,” he added. “Which I did.”

She ignored him, pointing a finger at him and squinting her eyes. “I’m going to add another rule to the list and I’ll make you _sign_ it this time.”

He knew it shouldn't be his focus during that banter, but the fact that her only concern was to add more rules to the list, which meant she was willing to continue their relationship, after what had just happened was meaningful. He felt his lips quirking up, but upon realizing she might interpret it as defiance, he sighed dramatically. “Can’t you just... I don’t know, _enjoy it_?”

She scoffed; he didn’t know whether the faint shade of pink beginning to appear on her neck and making its way to her face was a reaction of anger or embarrassment. Perhaps he had gone too far— _oh, you think?_ To be fair, he barely listened to reason when she was around.

“Sure, it’s enjoyable for _you_ when you can tease me and try to use your words—”

“I like kissing you,” he confessed, quelling her in the process. 

He could almost see every muscle in her body tensing as she stared at him; the censoring look she had in her eyes only a second ago being replaced by one of perplexity. He couldn’t say he didn’t share the feeling, especially when those words rolled off his tongue so easily while his heart beat a little less unsteady than usual in his chest. 

He reckoned it was the only way to make her believe his motivation to kiss her wasn’t solely proving her a point and teasing her about it. With his luck, she probably thought he was only playing games with her and while he couldn’t exactly confess his feelings at the moment, he _could_ demonstrate he wasn’t any more immune to her than she was to him. 

Casey blinked, her lips parting ever-so-slightly, and he commended himself for being able to maintain his eyes on hers, but crossed his arms to prevent himself from acting irrationally. God knows how much of _that_ he had been doing. 

“See? It’s not that hard,” he said. 

"Not that hard?"

"To admit it."

“You... like kissing me?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes slipped to his chest and she lifted her hand to brush its back against her rosy cheeks as subtly as possible. He couldn't help a smile this time; the vision was too adorable. 

“ _That_ ,” he said, pointing at the wall, “would be another level of commitment if I didn’t. So, if I ever tease you about it, you can say I’m a hypocrite.” 

She bit the inside of her cheek and it took him a moment to realize she was trying to fight a smile. She brought her hand to her lips and pretended to wipe at it again, shaking her head. “Derek, you're—”

"Insufferable?"

"I'm glad we're on the same page."

“So am I."

She summoned the courage to raise her eyes to him. He suppressed the urge to slide his thumbs over her cheekbones, just to feel their hotness under his skin. He shouldn’t be as attracted to her as he was when she was embarrassed—it was probably a fetish by now. He smiled at her, feeling awfully uneasy for some reason; the susceptibility in her eyes was probably what triggered it. It wasn't like he didn't know she did enjoy kissing him, but having her implicitly confirming it was exhilarating. It made him think that maybe he was closer to his goal than he thought; that maybe her falling in love with him wasn't such a far-fetched idea.

"Just to be clear," she warned him, although her tone was neutral, "I _will_ make you sign the new rules. I'll rewrite them tomorrow."

He nodded slowly, flashing her an impish smile. "Yes, ma'am," he said, to which she shoved his arm playfully, unable to completely repress a smile of her own. "Now,” he said, extending his hand to her. She looked at it for a brief moment and then up at him again, “we should get back to our friends.”

"Okay, but if Kyra keeps asking those questions I might have to leave you there alone."

"Hey, we can turn it into a drinking game. One shot every time she says something absurd."

"That sounds like fun," she said in fake excitement, "but I don't want to die of alcohol poisoning."

He laughed under his breath and he relished the way she joined him right after. He was surviving on pure luck by now; he definitely didn't deserve the constant second chances she gave him, especially when he acted so recklessly. "Then we'll just bolt. But by now she's moved on, she must be bugging Will and Pete. She loves to do that. That might be actually fun to watch. Now it'd be really nice if you could take a hint and hold my hand, my arm is getting tired."

Casey rolled her eyes, reaching for his hand with a dramatic sigh. He pulled her to his side as he started to walk back to the game area, practically overlapping their arms in the process. She glanced at him briefly but didn't say a word when he intertwined their fingers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. Okay, so much has happened in one chapter! Too many emotions to process, but all I have to say is I hate Truman and love Dasey in the same intensity. So it's a lot. 
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for the comments and kudos, you guys just brighten my day and make my heart a little warmer ❤️ And I really appreciate the comprehension regarding my lack of consistency to post. Hopefully I'll be able to post more frequently! 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one and talk to you soon! Have a lovely day ❤️


	13. Of Parallel Universes and Reading Between the Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of Sexual Assault and Rape/Non-Con] 
> 
> Hey guys ❤️  
> This one is a little heavier (nothing graphic or descriptive, but stay safe). I hope you enjoy it!

_"Here I am, saying things to you_

_I never thought that I'd say outside my head_

_Oh, and here we are_

_I'm doing things with you I never thought we'd do_

_[...] Oh, you're the shape of all my days_

_Oh, you're my holy place"_

_(Alone with Me - Vance Joy)_

Casey 

The only thing in her mind when she left the bar a few hours later was that she couldn’t taste her lip gloss anymore. She reckoned it was the alcohol or the drowsiness bringing her attention to unimportant issues, but the truth was that she spent the entire night replaying the moment Derek wiped it off with his own lips—and it was exceptionally difficult to avoid doing it when he was sitting beside her all the while, his leg pressed against hers at the table, warming up her body just to remind her he was her weakness. 

But she already knew that.

She hadn’t planned on calling attention to their relationship and its implications on their family; she _certainly_ hadn’t planned on talking about incest— _what was wrong with her? —_ and she _most definitely_ wasn’t expecting both of them to delve so fervently into questions that didn’t matter in the end. The more he pointed out how nonsensical her mother’s reservations about their— _FAKE!_ —relationship was, the more she objected.

It was for the sake of her plan to break up with him, one she had concocted during that silent drive to the bar in order to spare herself from having to deal with her feelings—because she was also a coward. But Derek's equal resistance to let the subject go or to simply agree with her to avoid a discussion that he most likely would rather not have, turned her lackluster attempt to break things off into a manner to confirm whether it would affect him or not. Whether he _liked_ her or not. 

And the truth was that it was also her motivation behind offering him the possibility to go out and see other girls, even if she felt regretful over the suggestion a second after it left her mouth. She wasn’t even sure which answer she wanted to hear. 

If he accepted it, it would mean he wasn’t as interested in her as she thought, and while she didn’t have the right to feel jealous or to force him to abstain from dating and having sex, the meager thought of him kissing or touching someone else was unbearable. If he didn’t accept it, she wouldn’t have the safety of denial to cling to anymore, because there was no way Derek would ever give up sex for a meaningless and fake relationship.

And thus she was now left with the consequences of overestimating herself and jumping into that same—supposedly—meaningless and fake relationship, staring at that cruel, naked truth with nothing to hold on to. It was always there, half-hidden by her own hands covering her eyes like a child afraid of monsters. 

It was there when he stared into her eyes in the car and she swore he was about to kiss her; or when he _actually_ kissed her so naturally in front of his friends and she fought the sensation that he wasn’t simply keeping up appearances; or when she assured him that she could never hate him and he turned into an adorable mess like he always did whenever she talked about feelings. She noticed that it had been happening more frequently; their bantering had been gradually replaced by deep conversations that she would never dream of having with him.

Still, she tried her best not to surrender, but between ignoring the searing fire growing inside of her and the unfair teasing on his part, she let go. He knew her resistance would crumble rather quickly; it only took his warm lips over her skin for her hands to start doing his bidding. And even if it made her hate herself, it was worth it to feel his hands lighting up every nerve as they created invisible paths over her skin, and his lips making silent promises that she used to think were all in her head. 

Only now she couldn’t stop about it.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Derek commented as she unlocked her door and stepped into her dorm. 

When she whirled around, Derek was leaning his shoulder against the doorframe with his hands shoved into his pockets. It was almost unfair how relaxed he looked when she could barely handle facing him directly after the events from that night; after practically surrendering to him and forsaking her own rules or finally acknowledging that he wasn't playing games, that his actions and words had to be founded in something deeper. She didn't know exactly what it meant and she wasn't sure _he_ knew, but she wasn't planning on asking him either. The longer she considered the idea that he liked her, the closer she felt to an anxiety attack.

“Doing what?” she asked warily, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Derek was scanning her face as if in search of something; she reckoned he was trying to ascertain their kiss and his admission of _enjoying_ her kisses hadn’t ruined their relationship.

“The silence thing. I might hate it more than when you’re babbling on and on.”

If only he knew how loud her thoughts were—or how _he_ was involved in all of them. She touched her cheek casually with the back of her hand to make sure she wasn’t blushing. “I’m just tired.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. Derek narrowed his eyes at her, and upon feeling slightly hot, she moved her hand to roll up her sleeves and realized she was still wearing his jacket. “Oh, I almost forgot.”

“Nah, just keep it,” he said, reaching out to gently drift her hand away from the front of the jacket when she motioned to unbutton it. “Maybe _that’s_ our thing, we share clothes now,” he added jokingly. “Or _you_ share mine.”

Casey glowered at him, but ultimately the reminder that she hadn’t given him his clothes back—which she _definitely_ hadn’t forgotten to do—made her cheeks start to burn slowly. She couldn’t say the idea of keeping his jacket hadn’t run through her mind before he even suggested it. It was like when Sarah appeared at their dorm the morning after spending the previous night out, donning her girlfriend’s hoodie. Only this was _Derek_ and he didn’t just give away his belongings. 

“Okay,” she agreed, oddly coy. “Now... I really should go to bed."

Derek nodded promptly, stepping away from the door. Casey wasn’t sure the hesitance she was feeling in the air originated from her at the idea of closing the door or from _him_ at the idea of leaving, but when silence crept in and she realized that having an impromptu staring contest with him was only awaking memories from their fiery kiss, she wished him goodnight and closed the door without waiting for a response. Sighing, she placed both her hands on the woody surface, letting her head sag down.

It wasn’t like she had never felt attracted to someone before, but it had never felt so... indomitable. For a solid minute, when he was kissing her with hectic impetuousness, she blocked out every single sound around and ignored every fragment of reason still left in her body. She was so turned on she swore that if Derek hadn’t stopped it, she would have lost herself in him and done whatever he proposed next. Which was both dangerous and insane—whatever chaotic version of herself Derek had created, it wasn’t _her_.

“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “It’s okay.” 

_No, it wasn’t_ , but she had to convince herself it was, otherwise she would let anxiety take over again. She had learned to share her body with it by now; it was almost her second personality, coexisting inside that messed up space. But she couldn’t process everything that had happened in one night, much less decide what she would do about her discoveries. She needed to sleep. The quicker she slipped away from reality, the sooner her thoughts would quiet down. 

She moved away from the door and walked up to the closet, sorting through her—and Ivy’s, the girl could never find space for her own belongings—clothes only for her hands to stop on Derek’s shirt. It had been hanging there ever since Ottawa and she had shamefully hoped he wouldn’t ask her to give it back, although she had only worn it once when both her roommates were away and taken it off the next morning as if Derek could somehow guess that she was wearing his clothes. It was probably pathetic, but she was past caring.

With a deep sigh, she took the shirt off the hanger and replaced it with his jacket—maybe it _was_ their thing, after all, soon enough his clothes would occupy more space than her own. Grabbing a pair of sweatpants, she quickly changed, and if she sniffed the fabric of his shirt to make sure his scent was still there—it was, now mixed with hers—no one would make her admit it.

Casey was looking for her toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste when she heard voices on the other side of the door. She stepped towards it but stopped in her tracks when she realized it was only one voice, and it was very familiar.

“...have to calm down. Didn’t you learn anything from what I told you?"

_What the hell is Derek still doing here?_

Heartbeat gradually speeding up, she took a deep breath. She still had to go to the bathroom and, since the only way to reach it was walking past him, there was nothing she could do to avoid him. He was constantly ruining her plans. She rushed to take his shirt off her and threw it on her bed before finding a blue shirt of her own to put on. Carefully—and almost regretfully—walking back to the door, she opened it to find Derek sitting on the floor, holding his phone to his ear; his knees were flexed and back was pressed to the wall beside her door. He looked up at her, taken by surprise.

"Hold on," he said before covering the phone with his hand. "What?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. “What the hell are you doing in the hallway?”

"Giving Edwin social skills lessons?"

“In the middle of the night?”

“Well, _he_ sent me a billion texts. You can smell the desperation, I took pity.”

Casey rolled her eyes, hesitating before moving to sit on the floor next to him. She wrapped her toothbrush in her washcloth and dropped them on her lap, motioning for Derek to go back to his conversation. He clicked on the speakerphone and raised his phone in the air between them. 

"Ed?" she called.

"Oh, hey, Casey!” Edwin exclaimed. “Thank God."

" _You_ texted _me_ ," Derek grumbled.

"I texted _Casey_ first, but she didn't see it. Quite the sibs you two."

"What happened?" she asked.

Edwin sighed. "Okay, so... long story short, Hannah and I are dating now. And most of the time we have a lot to talk about and it’s fun and easy. But sometimes she starts talking about all this smart stuff, like cult movies and old books and I can’t catch up. Just now we were talking and she was going off about this Japanese short film I’ve never heard of. Or maybe it was Vietnamese.”

"She's not so lame, after all," Derek mocked. 

“Ignore your brother, please. Why don’t you just tell her exactly that? You’re not going to have the same interests, Edwin. That’s okay.”

“Um..." He cleared his throat and she could almost see him scratching the back of his head like Derek did whenever he was embarrassed. “I might have told her that I’m in a book club. And that I know Tarantino’s entire film career.”

Derek snorted loudly, amused by his brother’s dismay, to which Edwin barked, “ _You_ told me to pretend I was into the things she likes!”

“I meant it like ‘books are fun and movies are cool’, not ‘I’m a seventy-five-year-old movie enthusiast who also invites people over in his house to discuss Sophie’s choice’. Did she even _buy_ it?”

Casey turned to him in sheer confusion. “First, why would you tell him to _pretend_ he likes the same things as her? Second, how do you know Sophie’s Choice?”

“It’s a _movie_ , Casey. I know _movies._ I’m a Film major student,” he said smugly. “Did you think I had actually read the book?”

“Silly me."

He agreed with a nod of his head and a grin that prompted her to roll her eyes. “And like I _said_ , it was supposed to be a white lie. He _does_ like movies, all he had to say was ‘I enjoy watching Bambi’ or something.”

“ _Bambi?_ ” Edwin echoed, seemingly offended.

“Okay,” Casey intervened, rubbing her palms across her face with a sigh. “You should _never_ pretend to like something just because you want to please someone else.”

“I wish I’d listened to you when you told me not to take Derek’s advice about relationships,” Edwin mused aloud. 

“I won’t sit here and be blamed for _your_ incompetence to follow a simple plan,” Derek countered. “I told you to say you enjoyed the same things as her in a _normal_ proportion and do things and take the places she liked. That was it.”

Casey glanced at his profile as subtly as possible, immediately recalling the last day they spent in Ottawa. The one he planned beforehand—because there was no way he didn’t, regardless of what he said—to take to places _she_ liked and _do_ _things_ she liked. As if sensing her gaze, he latched his eyes onto hers and she shied away just as quickly as Edwin started to retort Derek’s statement. 

“Edwin,” she interrupted his speech, “all you have to do is tell her the truth. If you keep dragging this on, it'll be worse.”

“I know that! But what if she thinks I’m stupid?”

“You _are_ ,” Derek murmured.

“Der- _ek_.” Casey bumped her knee into his and he hit her back, only he didn’t move his leg away once they collided. “Edwin, you’re not stupid. _What you did_ was stupid, that’s different, and half of it _is_ your brother’s fault.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Derek grumbled beside her, laying his head against the wall behind them. 

“It’s okay if you want to take interest in what she likes, that’s nice. You _should_ do that. Ask her to recommend books or movies. Just don't lie to her or try to be someone you’re not because she'll see right through you."

“So you think she knows?”

“You told her you’re in a _book club_ ,” Derek said mockingly, lifting his head and switching his phone to his other hand. “If she doesn’t know you’re lying and she’s still willing to be associated with you... her standards are quite low. But I guess that’s good news?”

Casey cast another look of reprimand at him, but saw his sarcastic semblance soften gradually after Edwin mumbled a despondent “Yeah”. He stared at his phone for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“Look..." he began calmly, “if she likes you, you’re doing something right. You’re awkward and very annoying..."

_There it was_ _._ “Der- _ek_!”

“...but that's who you are. You like weird stuff and you have some questionable taste in... well, _everything_. But you own up to it. And that’s... cool, I guess.”

She was about to chide him again when his words were assimilated by her brain, leaving her surprised. In all the years she had lived with the Venturis, she had never once heard Derek say anything as nice about his brother. 

“Oh.” Edwin’s voice suggested that he was just as flabbergasted as her. “Did you just say I’m cool?”

“ _No_ , I definitely didn’t say _that_ ,” Derek retorted, although a smile crept up across his face. “You’re not the worst human being on Earth either. I mean, there are like a bunch of psychopaths and nazis out there, right?”

“Derek,” Casey muttered under her breath, although the reproach was lost under a light chuckle that Edwin shared. Derek glanced at her and smiled briefly before turning his eyes to his phone again.

“Wow. That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Edwin mused, letting out a long sigh after. “I think... my whole life I tried to be more like you, you know? Try growing up with a brother who’s cooler and more talented than you’ll ever be and you have... me. It was a recipe for disaster.”

Once again, Derek defied her expectations of a witty comeback, choosing to stay in silence for a few seconds. She stared intently at his profile, his forehead puckered as if Edwin’s confession had affected him the way it affected her. Lizzie used to say Derek had twice the normal amount of self-esteem a human being should have to make up for Edwin’s lack thereof; it was always sad to hear him dismissing himself when he was one of the sweetest people Casey had ever met. 

“Well, you’re pretty good at science... stuff,” Derek said, frowning as if questioning his wording. “And ping-pong. You can burp the entire alphabet.”

Casey grimaced at the memory of Edwin showing his unusual talent at dinner numerous times, but her step-brother found the reminder funny judging by the light laugh he let out. 

“Lizzie is nothing like me and she’s still pretty cool,” Derek resumed. “So, like... be you and all that shit. Or whatever.” He cleared his throat, stretching one of his legs. The other one was still firmly pressed against Casey’s. “Is that all?”

“Um... yeah, I guess. Thank you.” Edwin’s gratitude sounded so heartfelt Casey smiled. “Can I call if I need more help? Things might not go very well.”

Derek groaned. “Fine, but don’t start texting me if I don’t pick up. I hate desperation.”

“Noted.”

After Edwin wished them goodnight, Derek hung up and put his phone in his pocket, craning his neck to eye her. Whether it was due to their proximity or the inappropriate thoughts that she had been battling with for the past few minutes, she blushed. Casey looked away, clearing her throat. 

“It was nice of you to say those things to him.”

“I thought it might help him tone down on the pathetic.”

“Why can’t you just own up to the things you feel?” The question sounded passive-aggressive, but her intonation was soft. “You love your brother and you want to help him.”

“Who says I’m not owning up? That’s just sarcasm. I’m more of a read-between-the-lines kind of guy. Doesn’t always work, though.”

She turned to meet his gaze, finding a glint of amusement shining in his eyes. "Maybe change strategies, then.”

“Old habits die hard.”

Casey rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her stomach. “What are you still doing here?" 

"I was going to my dorm, but Scott just texted me. He’s heading there with a girl.”

“So?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “So... he's _having sex_ there," he explained with a tone of obviousness.

Casey hoped he hadn’t noticed the way she sucked in her breath. The last thing she needed was to hear that word coming out of his mouth, especially after that lapse of judgment she had experienced at the bar when that same mouth was over hers. She looked up at the ceiling, almost pleadingly.

“Classy,” she muttered.

He murmured in agreement. “Did I ever tell you about the time he barged in with a girl when I was sleeping—”

“Yes, _many times,_ Derek.” She let her head fall back against the wall, completely aware that he was doing it on purpose. Only he had no idea what was going through her head now. “I didn’t want to hear it the first time and I don’t want to hear it now.”

Derek clicked his tongue. “You don’t need to be so uptight. There’s nothing wrong with talking about sex, it’s a natural thing.”

“I’m _not_ uptight,” she said through clenched teeth, still avoiding his eyes. “And there’s nothing wrong with talking about it when you’re not trying to get a rise out of me.”

“I think the real question is _why_ you feel that way when I talk about sex.”

Casey closed her eyes in order to compose herself. She wished annoyance was the only emotion blooming inside her body, but there was also that sizzling sensation in her lower belly again, the same one she felt when his hips were pressed tightly against hers and his lips were brushing hers just hours before. She pressed her palm to the crook of her neck, feeling the hotness of her own skin.

“You always get so tense,” he resumed in his mocking tone, and she opened her eyes to see the toying glimmer in his own brown pools when she felt the gentle touch of his hand on her knee. “And tension needs to be released in _some_ way, you know?”

Casey scoffed, her cheeks instantly burning at the obvious assumption of the meaning behind his idea of releasing the tension. “Der- _ek_! You... _pig_!” She batted at his arm and glided to the side to establish some much-needed distance between them, which only caused him to laugh. 

“I told you, you make it _too_ easy,” he said, but it sounded more affectionate than teasing. “I’ll stop now. Promise. Unless you want to _come_ to me about it, I’m here for you.”

There was an array of insults and unpleasant adjectives she could use to attribute to him flitting through her mind. He was insufferable; a stupid, crass, disgusting, crude, unnerving... _insanely hot_ ass. _Ugh_. 

Casey always knew Derek was hot; she had _eyes_. She saw how girls—and a few guys—looked at him when he paraded around the halls at school with his perfect nest for a hair and enticing smirk. She would also be lying if she said she had never been affected by him even when they were younger; it wasn’t only the secret uneasiness she felt whenever he invaded her personal space while they were arguing or the breath she held when his words sounded too flirty. Eventually, he started to invade her mind as well.

Her dream diary was a witness to all those improper scenarios her mind conjured during the night, but she never gave it too much importance when she had had many dreams involving random people who she had no interest in whatsoever. Dreams _were_ random images she couldn’t control, completely meaningless. Granted they made her feel weird when she faced Derek in the morning, but she would usually write those dreams down and pretend they never happened—hide it inside that box of embarrassing things she didn’t want to acknowledge inside her brain. 

Perhaps that strategy stopped her from ever cogitating acting on her instincts; she never allowed herself to _feel_ and now that it was all out in the open, box broken into tiny pieces, she couldn’t help but want him; wonder what it would be like to taste her dreams in real life.

“You know what I want?” she defied, to which he grinned and hummed quizzically. “I want you to get out of here and leave me alone, and while you’re at it, _read our freaking rules_ and memorize number one. Because you’re breaking it right now.”

Derek knitted his eyebrows. “Isn’t that the one that says that we should be nice to each other or some shit? That’s what I’m doing, I’m caring for you. _And_ ,” he added when she opened her mouth to probably insult him—she wasn’t sure, “if we’re resorting to the rules, it wouldn’t hurt you to be, you know... _compassionate._ ” He glanced at her door and then back at her.

She let out a sarcastic sound. “You are _not_ staying the night, Derek.”

“Are you really leaving your boyfriend to sleep outside in the cold like a dog?”

“You’re _not_ my boyfriend and you _can’t_ guilt-trip me.”

“I’m going to pretend that’s true and be the bigger person,” he said, extending his hand. “Truce?”

Casey looked at his hand as though she was looking at a bomb ready to explode. She didn’t want to touch him—well, she _did,_ but she would rather _not_ for that exact reason—or accept his request, because it meant agreeing to letting him spend the night there. In her dorm. With her. Just the two of them. 

Her stomach twisted with the thought and she visibly jumped when he cleared his throat and moved his hand in the air impatiently, as if urging her to shake it. She couldn’t put herself in such a situation; but then again, she secretly adored the thrill of knowing he would be sleeping next to her. _Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?_ She reached out to shake his hand and pretended not to notice the way her skin tingled at that meager touch.

“Thanks, Case."

She nodded in response, rising to her feet in a quick movement that he mimicked to stand in front of her. “Sarah won’t be back until the afternoon tomorrow, so you’re good.” She cleared her throat. “You can go in, I’ll just brush my teeth.”

Turning her back to him before he could say anything else, she walked down the hall towards the bathroom. When she went back to her dorm, she halted upon seeing him lying comfortably on his back on her bed, ankles crossed and one hand cradling the shirt she had haphazardly taken off before she left the room against his chest. _His_ shirt. _How could she have forgotten about it?_

A curse danced on her tongue as he turned his head to the side, looking at her with a playful smile on his lips. “So, I guess you found it in the back of your closet?”

“Uh, yeah, I was... looking for it just now,” she lied, choosing to occupy herself with returning her toothbrush and toothpaste to her toiletry bag. 

“It looks like you were wearing it.”

She scoffed, finally shifting her eyes back to him. “Of course I wasn’t wearing it! I was going to give it back to you tomorrow.”

He raised one brow. “I told you I don’t want it back. And you always fold your clothes, but I found this one all crumpled in your bed. _Which,_ ” he added with a growing smirk, “makes me think you took it off and tossed it any which way before you left your room so I wouldn’t see it.”

She wasn’t sure why that idea, which was true but he didn’t need to know, seemed to amuse him so much. Although history had proven over and over how having a reason to annoy her was exciting enough for him. 

“Now, _why_ would I do that?”

“ _You_ tell _me_ , I’d love to see it.” Ignoring the incredulous sound that escaped her throat, he drew the shirt closer to his nose. “Hey, it smells like you.”

“It smells like my _detergent,_ ” she countered, marching towards him in order to roughly snag the shirt from his hands. He made a show of following her with his eyes and a sardonic smile as she made her way to the closet to find a hanger for the shirt. “Because I washed it with it, that’s how laundry works.”

“Huh, I could swear I smelled your perfume.”

She turned around with a scowl, but he wasn’t looking at her. The remark she had prepared was quickly swallowed as she assessed the image in front of her. He had placed his hands under his head and closed his eyes. It was nearly impossible to fight the urge to join him now. She leaned back against the door of the closet, clasping her hands in front of her body as a random thought crossed her mind. 

“Hey,” she called softly. Derek opened his eyes and cocked his head to stare at her curiously. “Can I ask you something?”

Probably sensing that their banter was over, his semblance softened and he moved to sit up on the bed and direct his attention to her. She took a deep breath, letting her eyes travel around the room until she felt confident enough to ask the question. 

“I was just thinking about what Truman said...” She went back to his face and saw his expression hardening slightly. “Was he talking about the day he... kissed Vicki?” For some reason, she still couldn’t bring herself to say he had cheated on her, which was morbidly comical when it was the least hurtful thing he had done to her.

Derek nibbled on the inside of his bottom lip, as if considering telling her the truth. “Yeah.”

“You never told me what happened.”

“You never asked.”

She lowered her gaze to the floor. Whether it was for shame or for the traces of sadness that still afflicted her when she dared to revisit those memories, she had never addressed that moment ever since its occurrence.

“I just said he and your cousin were scum,” he said, bringing her eyes back to him. The familiar humor in his tone made her smile, but seriousness clouded his features, it faltered. “And I told him to apologize. Because no one treats you like that. He never deserved you. I don’t think anyone does.”

The sincerity in his eyes and the weight of those gentle words spoken amidst the silence of her dorm made her hold her breath for a few seconds. She could feel a burning sensation behind her eyes, unsure of its reason, and chose to escape the intensity of his gaze and stare at the floor once again before she started crying like an emotional walking mess. 

“I never thanked you,” she whispered after a few seconds. 

“Well, you _were_ busy crying all over the car that day.”

Her lips curled up unwittingly. “Just accept my gratitude, Derek. I know you’re not an insensitive ass who doesn’t care.”

It made him laugh under his breath. She snapped her head up in time to see him getting to his feet and walking towards her desk, where she had left her toiletry bag. He opened it without asking for permission and she was accustomed enough with that kind of behavior to chastise him. 

“See, the reading-between-the-lines thing works on you,” he mentioned, pulling out her toothpaste before setting her eyes on her. “And you don’t have to thank me, it was my pleasure to insult that piece of shit. Be right back.”

He left the room before she could think of something to say. After reaching the—incredibly late—conclusion that he liked her, it shouldn’t be as surprising to hear him admitting, even if indirectly, that he cared about her. But it was. Hearing him _say_ it was different. 

She stared at her door for a moment, both rapt and touched; in a way, it felt like an implicit answer to her confession at the bar that he was important to her. She smiled to herself and slipped her legs under her blanket to sit leaning against the headboard. Whether it was maturity development or booze, between acting nice to Edwin and opening up to her, something was happening to Derek. 

The only person he had never reservations about expressing his feelings to was— _Marti!_ So much had happened that night that she had almost forgotten about her step-sister and the photo that had caused her so many problems. Suddenly alert, she groped for her cellphone next to her bed, about to look up the name of the festival on Facebook, but stopped when she saw her notifications and spotted a message from Marti from a few hours before.

_**Marti:** I asked them to delete the pic when i saw it but i thought u might want it cause its sooo pretty. Ur welcome :) Tell smerek to check his messages xx _

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the photo attached to the text. They weren’t kissing, she noticed with a bit of relief, but perhaps that picture showed more than a kiss would have. It was almost ironic how the moment eternalized in the photo was the one she eternalized in her brain. His arms were looped around her waist holding her close, hers were wrapped around his neck; there was a flower crown in her hair and he wore that smile that lit up his eyes. A smile she saw reflected in her own face. 

She didn’t even notice when her fingers found her lips, gingerly brushing its extension. With that gesture, she was not only recalling the way it felt to wear happiness on her face that day, but also his kisses—each and every one of them. In a parallel universe—one where she was braver, or lucky enough to be someone he met as an adult—she wouldn’t have to rely on memories. Her lips would be on his before she could finish _creating_ a memory and thus she would have a never-ending present of blissfulness and Derek. 

In _this_ universe, he wasn’t hers. But she knew she would always have him even if everything else faded away. It had to be enough.

She startled upon hearing her door swinging open and snapped out of her reverie to shut off her phone, placing it on her lap. Derek locked the door and stopped in his tracks with a puzzled look when he glanced at her. Her acting skills were clearly null in real life. 

“What?”

“Uh... Marti sent me that photo she was talking about at dinner," she said as casually as her nervousness allowed.

“Oh.” He smiled knowingly and resumed his mission to return her toothpaste to her bag. “At the restaurant, I asked her to message the page to remove it. But she’d already taken care of that.” His tone suggested he was proud of her thinking. “She said she was waiting to tell us about it before sending it to us.”

“Do you see the similarities between you and your sister?” When he looked up at her with an arched eyebrow, she crossed her arms across her chest. “The scheming and the knack for torturing people?”

“I can see that, yeah.”

“Ugh.”

He poked his cheek with the tip of his tongue with the shadow of a smirk on his lips in that way that made her want to gauge her eyes. Then he proceeded to take off his shirt as though she weren’t there. Staring. _You’re staring!_ At this point, she was wondering whether his actions were premeditated and he was deliberately trying to provoke her, which wasn’t far-fetched considering he was Derek. 

She allowed her eyes to roam wistfully over his torso when he pulled out his phone from his pocket and started typing something. In her defense, she had a privileged view from where she was standing and she had been humiliated enough times by her own actions to care about indulging one last time. She drew a quiet and long breath through her lips, which had parted involuntarily. 

“So,” he began, giving her enough time to compose herself and drift her eyes to his face bearing a slight blush before he fully turned to her, “I also don’t sleep in jeans, so you might want to..." He wagged his finger in a circular movement in the air. “Or not, who knows? I don’t mind.”

“Derek, you _promised_.” 

He nodded, his hands removing his necklace to place it on the desk. Her eyes were drawn to his arms, briefly tracing the lines of his biceps. Somehow she felt even more attracted to him and it would be naive of her to believe it didn’t have anything to do with what had happened at the bar and the inappropriate thoughts that it planted in her head.

“That was for old time’s sake. I kind of miss driving you up the walls. Okay, that was unintended, _I swear_ ,” he promptly added, and despite his smile, he _did_ sound genuine. 

Casey groaned, quickly laying on her back and pulling the blanket up to her chest. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the metallic sound of the buckle of his belt; she could _feel_ herself descending into madness as she demanded her eyes to remain shut. When the torture was over, she heard him turn off the lights, and the notion that they were locked inside the dorm alone for the night made her stomach twist. As he laid down on Sarah’s bed, right next to hers, she reached the conclusion that she was a masochist.

It wasn’t easy falling asleep, and it seemed like Derek shared the opinion. He had been tossing and turning on his bed, occasionally letting out long sighs that were driving her crazy. Eventually, her eyelids felt too heavy and she gave in to the drowsiness, only she ended up wishing she hadn’t slept at all, because her mind was apparently conspiring with the universe to—pardon her French—fuck with her.

The dream started out blurry, as if her own self from another dimension had tried George’s reading glasses and couldn’t see the ambient that surrounded her. Bit by bit, its colors and shapes began to fall into place and she was suddenly in Derek’s bedroom in London, his deep brown eyes staring at her too closely in an all-too-familiar setting.

“ _You keep playing with fire_ ," he said, exactly like he did all those weeks ago, taking a step forward. " _And you know it._ "

She felt the pleasant twinge of anticipation emerging from inside, combined with a liberating feeling of security upon the notion that she didn’t have to think about running away this time. " _I'm not doing anything._ "

Derek stepped even closer, too quickly for her to predict it when he rested his hands on the crook of her neck, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin of her jaw and making her quiver. " _Why can’t you just own up to the things you feel_?"

“ _What do I feel_? _”_ she heard herself asking without hesitation.

His eyes glistened with teeming mischief, as if he had been waiting for that question for a long time. In a sudden movement, he backed her up against his door and placed his hands on its surface, on each side of her head. She held his brazen gaze as an electrifying feeling coursed through her body. He lowered his head until she could feel his breath on her lips, and her tongue darted out to lick them instantaneously. His eyes drifted to her mouth as blatantly as he pressed himself closer to her, eliciting a gasp from her. 

“ _Desire,_ ” he finally replied. “ _You don’t_ act _on it, but you still_ feel _it. So if it turns you on... you might as well just do something about it. ”_

_“_ _How can you be so sure_? 

Derek nuzzled her cheek at an excruciatingly slow pace. His hands weren’t even touching her, but goosebumps spread all over her arms and she sighed hopelessly when he drew his mouth closer to her ear. “ _I can read between the lines. Deep down you know what you want._ ”

“ _You know what I want_?”

He steered back to meet her eyes, the flawless replica of his stupid smirk plastered on his lips telling her that she had memorized it with painstaking and unhealthy perfection. _“_ _Hmm_? _”_

Casey didn’t waste a single second, grabbing his face and crashing her mouth against his with a roughness that didn’t belong to her but stemmed from the necessity to feel him closer. Derek kissed her back immediately, forcing her to open her mouth and coaxing an involuntary moan out of her. She slid her arms around his neck and leaned forward until their bodies were practically glued.

She almost sighed when his hands finally found her waist and squeezed it, sending a pleasant throb down her body before he moved them up and down her sides, with no restrictions or hesitation, enhancing her senses, elevating every emotion until they overflowed. Her own hands grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck and she swallowed the groan that escaped his lips. 

Derek groped for her hands without breaking the kiss and pinned them to his door; only the surface felt colder and rougher than his door, and when he moved his lips to press open-mouthed kisses along her neck, she opened her eyes to see that his room had been replaced by a familiar corridor in a bar. She shuddered, both with the sensation of the cold wall pressed against her back and the rousing feeling of hunger that overpowered her.

“ _Derek_ ,” she breathed, to which he let go of her hands and allowed her to lead them towards his bare chest while he promptly went back to her mouth. 

His tongue slid between the seam of her lips, unbidden and daring, licking the roof of her mouth in an almost sinful way that made her blush. There was that high, the sensation that felt almost delirious whenever he kissed her like she was oxygen for his lungs—she _needed_ him. _More. Closer._

With enviable ease, he slid his hands down her back and lifted her up, so that she could wrap her legs around his hips. She could feel him moving with leaden steps, too slow for her own good and the growing need inside her; she didn’t even question the direction he was taking until he lowered her body and her back hit the soft touch of a mattress. She pulled away for a moment to assess their location, realizing it was her dorm.

She looked back at Derek when he bent down to place his hands on the mattress beside her head and climbed on the bed to straddle her hips. She drew a sharp breath, reaching out to pull him down by his shoulder to kiss him again. Her hands roved up and down his back, fingertips outlining his muscles absentmindedly and making him groan into her mouth. She said his name as a weak reproach when he abandoned her lips to plant a couple of kisses across her right shoulder. Her skin tingled in a frenzy of static now. 

“ _I missed driving you up the walls, babe,_ ” he murmured before she felt his right hand trailing down the left side of her body until he reached the hem of her shirt. It slid under the fabric with caution; his fingers tickled the sensitive skin of her stomach and then made a fiery path to her ribs, causing her to shiver. “ _Is this what you want_?”

Casey opened her mouth, but before she could get the three-letter word out, she was violently yanked from that dream with a sharp gasp. 

She sat up on the bed, putting a hand to her heart, which pumped hopelessly inside her chest, making it heave with unsteady breaths. The other hand went up to comb through her hair, feeling her scalp slightly damp from cold sweat. The patch of skin where Derek had touched her in the dream seemed to tingle now. 

Those types of dreams were usually cathartic, probably a reaction to her most intimate and repressed thoughts; she was bolder and fearless, contrasting to the mumbling, flustered mess that she was in real life. And that was okay. The thing was that her other dreams involving Derek had never been as intense. It had never happened with real memories either or after she shamefully wished it happened in real life. 

“Nightmare?”

_Or_ with Derek present in the room. 

She jumped, feeling her heart speeding up by the second. The flimsy curtain covering her window wasn’t enough to block the lights from the outside and when she looked to the side, she could see him lying on his side, his eyes observing her with keen interest. 

“Yeah.” _Liar._

“Figured.”

“What?”

“You were saying my name. It was either a nightmare or a _very_ good dream."

Her heart nearly came to a stop. Casey gaped at his smirk, having the audacity to feel offended when he was absolutely right. 

"You know, like... you killing me or something,” he clarified, the playfulness in his voice telling her that his definition of a good dream was definitely _not_ that. 

She wondered if there was a limit for one's embarrassment, because right then, she was contemplating moving to Belize and starting a new life with a new identity. She didn't need Derek to know that he infiltrated her dreams or to think that _that_ particular dream wasn’t as innocent as it should have been. 

With her heartbeat still erratic, she laid down again and was thankful when Derek remained in silence, although she could almost see his mouth twisted into a smirk even with her eyes closed. If anything, he was right about being able to drive her up the walls, one way or another.

Once the damage was done, however, she couldn’t go back to sleep. The dream was still fresh in her mind when she left her bed a few minutes before her usual time, casting a long look at a sleepy Derek; his blanket was covering him from the waist down— _thank you, universe,_ — and he had one arm over his eyes while the other rested on his bare stomach. On second thought, _screw you, universe._

Deciding that she couldn’t deal with seminaked Derek so early in the morning, she walked to her closet to grab some clothes. Her eyes found his jacket hanging and she couldn’t help reaching for it—it _was_ hers now. Casey tiptoed her way to the bathroom to take a quick shower and start her day; she needed to meet a fellow classmate who was fortunately as unbothered as her about studying on weekends to work on a project that was due in a month. 

She was a few steps away from the nearest cafe to order a latte when her day was ruined by the sound of Truman’s voice coming from behind her. “Hey, Casey, wait up!”

“I thought I told you to fuck off,” she barked over her shoulders, without stopping. 

“I just need you to hear me out,” he insisted, and one second later he was standing in front of her, raising his hands in a placating way. She took two steps back, adding distance between them; that ugly mix of disgust and anger welling up inside of her as she stared at him. “One sec and I’ll never get in your way again. I promise.”

“It’s not like your word is worth something.”

“Okay, look,” he began, slowly dropping his hands, “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was angry at Derek and I didn’t stop to think that it might hurt you.”

“You never do,” she snarled. “Every time you do something bad, you come to me and you give me some half-assed apology that doesn’t mean shit. And don’t even try to tell me that you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose, because you were ready to tell everyone at that table about me and Derek.”

“I’d never do that to you,” he assured her with a wag of his head, “no matter how wrong I think this is.”

She scoffed. “How _wrong_!?”

“Don’t act so surprised.” His voice was almost mordant when he continued, “If you were scared that I was going to say something, it’s because you know it’s wrong. There’s a reason you didn’t even tell your friends, right? I bet your parents don’t know either.” 

Casey clenched her jaw, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall; she would _not_ cry in front of Truman. 

“When are you going to tell them? When your _actual_ brother is old enough to understand his siblings are fucking?"

She barely acknowledged her rage before her hand collided with Truman’s face, like a natural reaction of her body to his words. Despite feeling her eyes brimming with the tears she had tried to suppress just seconds ago, she was able to see the look of shock on his face when he placed his palm over his cheek, where her hand had slapped him with her full strength. 

Her palm was burning now; she wouldn’t have thought smacking someone else’s face would hurt as much, but knowing that _he_ was also inflicted with pain made her feel instantly better. 

“Get close to me again,” she warned him, “or tell anyone what you know and I won’t keep my mouth shut anymore. You know what you did to me.”

Truman’s expression hardened considerably; she felt a shiver run down her spine and her heart speeding up as the memories from that horrifying night from a year ago flitted through her mind. That was the look he had given her after he let her go resentfully; after he touched her without her consent. She didn’t want to remember that.

“So stay the fuck away from me,” she croaked out, turning her back to him before he tried to say something else. 

Her eyes were blurred with tears when she resumed her steps, which was probably what caused her to collide against someone. She bolted away from the person with a startled gasp, relaxing when she raised her eyes to see Pete. He held her at arms-length, inspecting her face with concern.

“Hey, are you okay? I saw that, I was just coming to step in.”

She nodded promptly, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Casey, you’re crying,” he pointed out. “You can file a complaint about him if he was bothering you. I can go with you if you want.”

“That was just his attempt to apologize for yesterday,” she said, taking a deep breath.

“Oh. Well, don’t even worry about that,” he assured her with a soothing smile that made Casey sigh with gratitude. “We all collectively agreed that he’s trash, so he’s banned from our VIP circle forever.”

Casey gave him a weak smile. “Thank you.”

“Hey, what do you say we go grab something to drink to take your mind off things?” he suggested. “I was just going to get some coffee.”

“So was I.”

“Come on, then.” 

He accompanied her to the cafe and made their orders as she found an available table next to the counter. The sunlight penetrated the windows, casting a golden touch to the room; it caressed her back with its warm touch when she sat down and took a deep breath. The sweet smell of coffee and pastries and the low murmurs across the cafe helped her mind return to the present, and by the time Pete was back with their beverages, she had managed to bring her heart rate to its normal rhythm.

“Nice jacket,” Pete said playfully, taking a large swig of his coffee. “Are things good with Derek?”

Casey nodded, tasting her latte before replying, “Yeah, why?”

“Will filled me in on what happened after I left you guys at the arena.” He smiled amusedly. “He mentioned Derek was very pleased with his acting.”

“Please, don’t remind me.” 

Pete chuckled. “Come on, that’s funny.” He took a larger gulp of his beverage and analyzed her face over the rim of his cup, which made Casey slightly uneasy. She drank her latte and directed her eyes towards the line of people that had formed before the counter of the cafe. “I don’t see why your family wouldn’t want you to date Derek.”

“They... have reservations about him." 

Pete nodded, but his eyes kept studying her face, as if reading the truth behind her eyes. She finished her latte in a few seconds, enveloping her cup with her hands. 

“Okay,” he said tersely, “I can't keep doing this."

She frowned. "What?"

"I know about you and Derek."

Casey’s body went still, but she tried to disguise her distress with a puzzled look. "What do you mean?" 

"I know the truth about... well, your relationship."

“Our... _relationship_?” she echoed, relatively calmer. He might only be referring to the fact that they weren’t really dating, which _was_ more probable considering no one besides Truman knew about their connection. Planting her elbows on the table to hold her head between her hands, she asked, “How?” 

"Derek."

"He _told_ you?"

"He told _Will_. In his defense, he was pretty drunk and Will can be very persuasive when he wants to know something. He asked about you and Derek spilled everything."

Casey shook her head in disbelief. “So _more people_ might know about it?"

"No, just Will,” he guaranteed. “The only person he told was me, so your secret is safe with... um... us, I guess."

"How long has he known?"

Pete furrowed his brows thoughtfully. "Almost a year? It was at the beginning of the first semester, after we met you."

Casey felt the color draining from her face in a second and she might have applied too much force around her cup, because it crumpled under her touch. Her pulse quickened considerably. “What?”

Pete’s eyes dropped to her cup and he reached out to gingerly take it from her hands and place it aside with his own cup. She kept staring at his face, looking for a single trace of judgment or condemnation on his expression, but finding none. He shifted his eyes to hers again and offered her a friendly smile. 

"I know you're his step-sister." He knitted his eyebrows. "What did you think I was talking about?"

_Step-sister._ It was still strange—and slightly terrifying—to hear someone else outside their family say that word. The heat returned to her body instantly; she could feel her blood concentrating on her cheeks now in a mix of embarrassment and shame.

"Hey," Pete called softly. "Casey, it's okay. I won't tell anyone. I figured if you guys hadn’t told us it was because you didn’t want anyone else to know."

"I..." She shook her head, unsure of how to finish that sentence. She had dreaded that moment for so long and no amount of worrying had prepared her for it, especially when all the scenarios she predicted in her mind involved her friends reacting negatively to the revelation. 

"I know you're not related,” he said. “Derek had already told Will that you guys met when you were fifteen. I mean... it's pretty understandable that you'd end up liking each other. Attractive people living together and hormones... just do the math. And _holy shit_ , your boyfriend is hot. Don’t tell him I said that, though.”

A chuckle escaped Casey’s lips; her fear wearing off and giving way to a rousing feeling of relief. “I’d never say anything to boost his ego even more.”

“Can I say something, though?” Upon receiving silent permission with a nod of her head, he gave her hand a few gentle pats. “I understand why you guys would want to hide it from everyone you know. There might be a lot of ignorant people out there. But... there’s also me. _And_ Will. He thinks it’s kinky,” he added with a grimace. 

She covered her face for a moment. “I can’t believe he actually pretended not to know anything.”

His lips quirked up. “After all this time you still don’t know how he works? He knows _a lot_ about the guys, things he says he can use as blackmail if it ever comes in handy or some crazy shit like that. I don’t even try to understand.” He waved his hand in the air dismissively. “But anyway, I take it the only reason why you’re also hiding it from your family is that they don't accept it?"

_And because it's not true._ The fact that she was in love with him or that he had feelings for her—she still hadn’t processed that completely and her stomach curled every time she thought about it—didn’t suddenly make their relationship real. But Pete didn’t need to know that; she had enough reasons to feel ashamed already.

"My mom. She kind of found out about us a while ago, but we told her it was only a rumor. She freaked out."

"And then you pretended that the gayer man to ever exist was your boyfriend," he concluded playfully. She snorted, letting her body relax as the air felt lighter around her. “But you were lucky because apparently, Derek’s little brother would’ve blown your cover.”

“ _Edwin told Will_?”

“Pretty much.”

She let out a helpless sound. All her efforts during the game had been in vain either way, but she couldn't have imagined that Edwin would have been the one debunking her. 

"I'm really sorry, though,” he said compassionately. “This whole thing is unfair. But why is your mom against it?”

“I think she had expectations. She knows we don’t see each other as siblings and never did. But that’s how she sees us."

“What about Derek’s dad?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s pretty oblivious, I don’t think the thought has ever even crossed his mind.”

Pete retrieved his hand from hers and folded his arms over the table, puckering his forehead as if in deep thought. “You know... there’s a difference between being selfish and caring for yourself. It's clear that you care about your mom’s approval, but when it comes to feelings and relationships, no one else should matter. Only you and Derek.”

She averted her eyes to the table. Her chest felt so tight it physically hurt for a few seconds. “I know you’re right,” she uttered, her nails scratching her forearm absentmindedly. “But things could get really messy.”

“That’s fair. But what’s your plan here? Date him in secret until she finds out? Because that’s happening eventually, you know that."

She was thinking more along the lines of hiding cowardly behind her fear, as Lizzie had pointed out the other night, and secretly enjoying what was left of their relationship because it wasn’t going to last much longer. There were only two ways out of that situation: breaking up and pretending to go back to where they were—because no matter how hard they tried, they would always be stuck in the same place—or faking a braveness she didn’t possess to embrace what she felt. And what _he_ felt. If he was even willing to do it.

“You know what I think?” he resumed, pointing at her with an affectionate smile. “That what you and Derek have is the kind of thing only a few people get in life. So don’t worry about others. They don’t get to tell you how you feel. Trust me, I spent a good portion of my life hiding who I was and what I felt because I was _so_ afraid of what my dad would think of me. And that’s bullshit.”

A sad smile appeared on her face and she stretched her arm to gently touch his wrist. “I’m sorry. And thank you.”

“Thank you. And you’re welcome,” he replied in an attempt to mimic her tone, which made her smile feel much more genuine. Suddenly he widened his eyes and fished for his phone in the pocket of his pants, eyeing its screen. “Oh, shit, I lost track of time. Have you seen Derek this morning? We’re supposed to talk to the coach in fifteen, but he hasn’t texted me back.”

“Yeah, he crashed at my dorm. But he didn’t mention anything.”

“Coach is deciding who’s taking the captain position for the next season,” he explained. 

Casey nodded, pretending to know about the matter, even though Derek hadn’t mentioned it. She didn’t particularly ask him about hockey, but she expected him to share such exciting news with her. “Right. He must’ve forgotten that was today, I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Classic. I’ll call him on the way.” He rolled his eyes and stood up, placing his hands on the table. “Will you be fine?”

“Yeah. Thanks for everything.”

He winked at her. “Anytime. Think about what I said. I’m one text away if you need me.”

***

Casey left the cafe ten minutes after Pete and made her way to the library with her head considerably lighter. Truman’s words were still swirling around somewhere in the back of her mind and she knew her anxiety was actively waiting for her to rescue that thought and spiral, but she brushed it away and focused on her tasks. Since she was at least one hour early, she thought she would take the opportunity to rewrite hers and Derek’s rules. 

Her first draft was a simple sequence of bullet points that she had been naive enough to believe were succinct but fairly descriptive—clear enough so that Derek could understand and, most importantly, _respect_ them. Only she had learned it the hard—not _so_ hard—way that there were loopholes. Of course _he_ would be cunning enough to realize it and _use it_ against her to kiss her.

If she was being honest, she wouldn’t mind if he kept finding loopholes, but she needed to spare herself and the best way to do that was guaranteeing it never happened again. It was very probable that she would have to end that relationship soon, what with Truman—hopefully—out of the picture, but while it didn’t happen, those rules would serve as a reminder that she needed control. 

After rewriting it and printing it onto two sheets of paper, she decided to check a few books on the empty third floor of the library—perks of studying there on weekends,—hoping she could find good references to include in her project. She sifted through titles for a while, frequently checking her phone to see if there were any new messages from her classmate, and when she moved to the shelf on her left to check more books, she noticed a figure at the far end of the corridor with the corner of her eyes. 

Turning her head, she recognized Julie sitting at one of the tables, seemingly drawing furiously on a sheet of paper. She was so concentrated on her work that she didn’t even notice Casey’s presence, and it was made even more obvious when Casey heard a low sob. Julie was crying.

Hand frozen over the spine of a book, Casey watched her for a couple of seconds, unsure about what to do. Her first instinct upon seeing someone crying was ensuring they were fine and offering them help. But this was Julie, someone who despised her and wouldn’t allow an approximation. 

Julie stopped drawing for a moment and harshly ran the back of her hand across the skin under her eyes to dry her tears before resuming her work. Casey closed her eyes with a deep sigh, already regretting her own actions when she walked up to the table in slow and silent steps. 

She caught a glimpse of her drawing over the girl’s shoulder, allowing herself to admire the precision and the beauty of Julie’s strokes; she had drawn a feminine face, colorless, but with a stunning chiaroscuro technique. She wouldn’t have pictured her as an artist; but then again, she wouldn’t have pictured her as someone who cried in empty libraries on Saturdays either.

"Hey."

Julie’s hand froze over the paper and Casey walked around the table to face her, noticing her entire body had gone still. The girl quickly wiped her tears and stuck her nose in the air to stare at Casey with that familiar hint of haughtiness. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying.

“What do you want, Katy?” 

Unfazed, Casey kept her voice soft when she replied, "Just checking up on you."

"Aw, you're so sweet," she mocked, twirling her pencil around her fingers with admirable agility. "I'm fine,” she snarled. “I came here to have some privacy and finish this project, so you can go now.”

Casey nodded slowly, ignoring the slight feeling of irritation that bloomed inside of her. "Okay, I'll leave you alone, then." When she took the first step back, Julie’s challenging stare seemed to falter a bit, but she stuck to her plan and turned around to walk away.

"Wait."

Casey stopped immediately, arching her eyebrows. She turned to Julie again, uncertain about having heard her correctly. Julie held her gaze for an uncomfortable amount of time and set her pencil down on the table. 

Her eyes glistened with more tears, but she held them back; Casey could almost see her swallowing the lump in her throat, feeling extremely strange to be witnessing that girl—that confident, arrogant girl—succumbing to something as humane as emotions. 

Julie looked at the chair across from her and Casey understood it as a sign for her to sit down, which she did wordlessly. She felt both sorry and uneasy now; whatever was happening to Julie, was difficult enough for her to resort to confiding in her _._ Or at least that was what she thought was happening.

"You and..." she began, voice oddly low and stricken and eyes focused on her own drawing, “You and Truman dated, right?"

Casey blinked in surprise, shuffling in her seat. She wasn’t expected to be reminded of Truman so soon, let alone by _Julie_ in such a strange situation. 

"Why?"

"God, just answer the question, Casey!" she snapped, dragging her eyes back to hers with a scowl. _There she was_.

"So you know my name," she murmured, to which Julie rolled her bloodshot eyes. "Yeah,” she said, swallowing. “ _Why_?"

Julie took a deep breath, drifting her eyes to her own hands on the table. “He didn’t make it clear, but I had a feeling,” she said, voice low again. “I thought that whole thing at the bar made sense..."

Casey opened her mouth, utterly confused. She was actively trying to comprehend the point of Julie’s questions, but there was absolutely no connection between the incoherent sentences she was saying.

"Was he ever... did you ever feel..." She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as a humorless smile crept upon her lips. “God, what am I doing?” 

"Julie, what’s going on?"

"I think he—" She interrupted herself, opening her eyes to the center of the table; there was so much pain behind her green eyes that Casey recoiled in her seat. 

"What?" she urged softly.

Julie scanned her face cautiously, and it seemed like that was the first time she was really _looking_ at her. Her semblance was devoid of arrogance, chin quivering very subtly. A single tear made its way down her face, and for the first time, Casey understood what it felt like to be Derek. If she broke down into tears in front of her, she didn’t know what she would do. 

"I can't tell anyone," she croaked out.

"I won’t make you tell me anything you don’t want to. But... you can trust me."

Julie placed one elbow on the table and rested her forehead on her palm, murmuring something she couldn’t hear. After a moment, she squeezed her eyes shut with such strength her face turned into a grimace. “I didn’t want to do it,” she blurted out, “I wasn’t feeling it, I don’t know why... he was being too pushy and I—I just let it—I hated it.” The agonizing sob she let out felt like a sharp knife cutting through Casey’s chest. “I hated it so much.”

Casey mumbled a silent “Oh, my God,” under her breath, which sounded like a shaky breath evading her lungs too abruptly. She swore the room was spinning very slowly around them in a cruel dance; her heartbeat sped up by the second, tears were welling up in her eyes, and the longer it took for either of them to say something, the closer she felt to throwing up.

“Julie..."

She jumped at the sound of Casey’s voice, suddenly rising to her feet to frantically gather her supplies. Having a delayed reaction due to the shock, Casey stood up and grabbed her arm the moment she motioned to pick up her things to leave. Julie stopped, but she kept staring at the table.

"I'm so sorry."

Julie stood still. Another tear fell down her face; her body was shaking, and Casey could feel it under that single touch on her arm. In a way, it felt like she was the only thing keeping Julie on her feet.

"You know you can go to the police, I can go with—"

" _No_ ," Julie objected immediately, shaking her head. "No, I can't tell anyone. _You_ can't tell anyone,” she added, looking at Casey. “You said you wouldn’t, Casey."

Casey acquiesced slowly, helplessly. “I—yeah, of course. You can trust me, but—”

“I said _no_ ,” she repeated louder; the usual bossiness was a faint presence under her wobbly voice. “I just want to erase it from my memory. Forget I ever said anything to you."

She withdrew her hand from her arm and Julie proceeded to grab her supplies again. “Julie, just... look, I know we're not friends and you’re the only one who can decide to do something about it, but if you want—"

" _God_ , can you _fucking_ _stop_?" she snapped, clenching her jaw. "This conversation never existed.”

Casey couldn’t do much but watch in a stupor as she descended the stairs in a hurry, disappearing from her sight. She kept staring at the railing of the stairs for what felt like hours, unable to move or even think; inside her, there was only disgust and fear, a terrifying comprehension that Truman was worse than what she thought; that he had hurt more people—deeper than he had hurt _her_. 

As a part of her wondered how he managed to hide that sick, evil side of him behind a charming face, the other wondered how Julie would deal with her scars now. She felt powerless; in possession of an important piece of information, incapable of helping Julie or rip out the darkness that consumed her soul.

Her feet moved before she realized it; her body knew she wouldn’t be able to study when all she wanted to do was lay down in her bed and cry until it didn’t hurt as much. Thankful that her roommates wouldn’t arrive until late afternoon, that was exactly what she did. She wasn't sure how much time had passed until her phone buzzed inside her pocket. She wiped her tears to check the new message, expecting it to be her classmate who she had forgotten to text about the change of plans but reading Derek's name on the screen instead. 

_**Derek:** i have news, where are you? _

While she knew Derek would do anything to avoid tears, the mere reading of his words evoked a deep necessity to see him. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to explain her despair, but she needed his solid presence, a meager reminder that she wasn’t alone and he was real. 

_**Casey:** My dorm. _

_**Derek:** omw _

She took a deep breath and waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's never easy to introduce such subjects to a story (or to read it) and when I started Spring Rain I wasn't planning to dive into this matter but as the story progressed I felt like I needed to write about it. That's why I changed the rating a couple of chapters back and I'll totally understand if you decide you can't continue to read. There will only be mentions of this case and nothing graphic or descriptive as I said, but it can be triggering to some people. Take care ❤️
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your patience and support! I loved reading every single comment, you guys are the best! Also, I'm planning on posting in the next couple of days to make up for those 3 weeks without any updates. Feel free to chastise me. 
> 
> Have a lovely day and if you're no longer reading after this, thank you so much for giving this story a chance ❤️


	14. Of Second Chances and Cold Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of Sexual Harassment/Referenced Rape]
> 
> Hey there ❤️
> 
> This one is dedicated to the lovely @ch_rainlily who has not only been supporting/advising/evaluating my ideas regarding this story but also tolerating me every single day. So grateful for you!
> 
> Enjoy your reading!

_“But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm_

_If your cascade, ocean wave blues come_

_All these people think love's for show_

_But I would die for you in secret”_

_(Peace - Taylor Swift)_

Derek 

As he walked to her dorm with a coffee cup in his hand, he noticed it had been quite some time since his last sleepless night. He had almost forgotten the taste of black coffee by now—it still wasn’t great,—and had become too confident in the return of the normality of his sleep to predict last night. 

Perhaps it had been a mix of several factors: the dreadful conversation in his car, the playful banter at the bar, the closeness and the heat and the taste of her lips, all jumbled together into a confusing web of emotions that led him to invite himself to stay over. He kept foolishly overestimating himself and his capacity to hold back, because at some point during his ineffectual attempts to rest, he heard her whispering his name. A couple of times.

He answered her the first time, thinking she also couldn’t sleep, but she didn’t reply. It took him a moment to understand she was dreaming and he stayed in silence to hear her whispers, feeling like some kind of dream _voyeur_ , convincing himself that there was nothing wrong with it when he had no other option. Only her whispers turned into soft sounds that sounded like faint moans and it drove him insane quite quickly.

There were many points to consider: first, Casey’s dreams weren’t as innocent as he would have thought, which was both funny and hot; second, _he_ was in her dream and all he could wonder for a long time was whether it happened frequently; third, she was totally enjoying it, which made him smile smugly in the semi-darkness and conjure scenarios of his own in his mind—he had to stop, however, when he realized how much of a bad idea _that_ was.

She woke up with heavy breaths and flustered—he _presumed_ she was flustered since he couldn’t _actually_ confirm it in the poorly lit room, but it was Casey, after all. Of course she lied, and of course falling asleep after that was a tough task. 

Which led him to his second cup of coffee in the morning after having a meeting with Coach Lewis. He was in a remarkably good mood and was slightly surprised to realize that his first instinct after learning that he had earned the captain position of his team was to share the news with Casey. It was like a reflex—whatever made him happy, he wanted to tell her.

He knew she didn’t care for hockey but was absolutely positive she would celebrate it with excitement, because—again—it was Casey. The thought made him smile to himself, but it faltered the moment he knocked on her door and she opened it seconds later with bloodshot eyes and a tear-stained face. 

“Hey, what happened?” 

Concern gradually washed over his body as he witnessed his question drawing a stifled sob out of her lips. Covering her mouth with her hand, she turned her back to him and walked towards her bed wordlessly. 

Instantly worried, Derek closed the door and marched to the center of the room as she sat down and shook her head, using the cuffs of her jacket to dry her face. He could see her chin trembling and her eyebrows scrunched up together with the effort she was making to hold back more tears.

“It might be my anxiety,” she said, her gaze fixed on the floor. “You know how that goes, sometimes it comes out of nowhere. I shouldn’t have told you to come.”

"It _never_ comes out of nowhere."

She raised her eyes to the bed across from her, but they looked lost and opaque, the blueness overshadowed by sheer desolation. A mix of fear and anger surged through him when a sudden and disquieting thought crossed his mind; the last time he had seen her as broken was in that same place, about a year ago—when she told him what Truman had done to her. 

Derek approached the bed as slowly and calmly as possible; he crouched down in front of her and gently placed his hands on her knees for a feeling of support that went both ways. His touch startled her as though she hadn’t noticed him. When she dragged her eyes to him, the pain that flowed from them made him physically cringe; it felt like a sharp knife twisting inside his own heart. 

"Case."

A crease appeared between her eyebrows as she lowered her gaze to his right hand on her left knee. He was contemplating retrieving both his hands when a sound of agony came out of her mouth, one he instantly wished to erase from his memory. He knelt down on the floor and reached out to pull her into a hug; her arms slipped around his neck in immediate response and his tightened around her torso until he could feel her body sag and her muscles become loose. 

As she leaned her head on his shoulder, all her defenses washed away in unceasing sobs and salty tears that soaked his shirt and caused her body to shake. There was a rawness to her crying; harrowing sounds that seemed to reverberate through his own body painfully. Her hands clutched at his shirt on his back, as if she was trying to hopelessly draw them closer. He reckoned her pain came in waves, minutes of sobbing combined with brief pauses for recovering breaths before collapsing again—each wave drowning him in anguish the longer it lasted.

Eventually, her sobs ebbed and when all he could hear was the slightly shaky sound of her breathing, he loosened his arms around her and pulled back just enough to look at her. “Just breathe,” he whispered. Casey stared at him, her thick lashes stuck together in clumps, but looking relatively calmer. “In and out, do it with me.”

Derek had witnessed enough of Casey’s anxiety attacks to find out that the oldest trick was the easiest way to calm her down. He closed his mouth and inhaled through his nose for four seconds before exhaling very slowly through his lips. Casey mimicked him, eyes fixed on his as if he was the only thing keeping her rooted in reality.

He grabbed one of her hands, loosely placed on his shoulder, and gingerly pressed his thumb against the skin of her wrist to feel her pulse. They repeated the exercise until both her heartbeat and her breathing had normalized.

“Better?”

She dropped her eyes to where his hand was touching hers. “Yeah.”

Unsure of how to proceed, he waited for a late addition or explanation that never came. He was making an unmitigated effort to stop himself from jumping to conclusions but the more he tried to make sense of her despair, the more certain he became that Truman was somehow involved. 

He rehearsed a tranquil tone before asking, “Can you tell me what happened?”

She squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment, her nostrils flaring slightly in a faint threat of more tears to come. But she swallowed them and met his gaze. "Truman is... he's _really bad,_ Derek."

His muscles tightened at the mention of the man's name, expression hardening, and a terrifying feeling of fear and hatred running through his veins like a blazing fire. "What did he do?"

"He hurt someone else," she croaked out.

Although significantly relieved that Truman hadn't touched her, that ugly sentiment of hatred remained inside him nonetheless. He couldn’t know with certainty what Casey meant, but his presumptions were horrifying.

"What does that mean?"

"Don't ask me about it, _please_ ," she asked. Her free hand rose to her chest, fingers touching her neck as if she was trying to prevent invisible hands from smothering her. “I promised not to tell anyone.” 

With a quiet sigh, Derek nodded. “Okay.” He then moved from his place on the floor to sit beside her on the bed, still holding her wrist. Perhaps her now steady heartbeat was the one thing keeping him sane. 

Casey sniffed, running the back of her free hand across her cheeks. He hated feeling so impotent; usually he could make her smile through her tears and forget about what upset her, but there was nothing he could do now. She wasn’t simply upset, she was terrified. It was inevitable to wonder what it felt like to be in her place. 

The thought that Truman had touched her was infuriating to him, but he would never understand it completely; he would never _feel_ what she felt. She was the one who had to deal with the permanent scars of one single night—and he hated it. He didn’t want to think about how afraid or how alone she felt in that moment, and after that; he didn’t want to think that something worse could have happened to her; he didn’t want to think that he was partially responsible when he was the one who got them back together.

Derek knew how the world worked; growing up with a father who defended countless victims of all sorts of crimes and violence, he was very much acquainted with the kinds of cruelty people were capable of. Still, he never would have thought that he would personally know someone capable of doing something so perverse. Now Truman had hurt someone else and there was a shrill voice in the back of his head wondering whether he had done it before. He felt his own hand squeezing her wrist inadvertently but loosened his grip when she looked at him. 

"It could’ve been me," she whispered. "That night. Deep down I knew that, I just didn't want it to be true. I blamed myself for the things that happened for a long time just like he did—"

"Just like _he_ did?"

Realizing what she had said, Casey swallowed and averted her eyes to their hands again. "That day..." she began, voice stricken, "at the festival... when you were talking to Julie, he was trying to insinuate that you'd cheat because I wouldn't... have sex with you. That's why _he_ cheated on me. He made me feel like I owed it to him. He kept pushing and when that didn’t work, he..." She let out a sharp breath. “He would’ve done it, Derek.”

He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted his own blood, which didn’t help in his attempt to repress his own fury and thirst for _Truman’s_ blood. Every fiber of his being urged him to leave that place and look for Truman to give him what was long overdue, while his mind reminded him that he needed to be cool and collected for Casey. He wouldn’t solve anything by leaving her when she needed him, but he would gladly take out his anger with a punch on the wall. 

Still, he needed to move, so he rose to his feet in a quick movement and turned around to rub his palms across his face. It was inevitable to avoid thinking back to when she told him what Truman had done the first time, because that exact moment felt like a worsened version of that initial nightmare.

They were studying in her dorm, at least five textbooks spread over her bed, when he received a text from Kendra; it had been unexpected and completely random, and he even remembered feeling slightly weird when Casey leaned over his shoulder, too close for comfort, to read the message when he expressed his confusion. They weren’t as comfortable touching each other as they were now, but they _were_ as good at teasing each other as now. 

Kendra’s peculiar style, with far too many emojis and the addition of ‘Der-Bears’ triggered Casey into mocking him. So he started pointing out every single embarrassing memory he had witnessed between her and Sam, and she laughed. Then it was Max's turn and he definitely stared at her a moment too long with a smile when she threw her head back and laughed even harder. When he mentioned Truman, however, the melodic sound of her joyfulness was replaced by a sudden silence. He could even hear the light conversation happening in the hall outside her dorm. 

Casey turned to her textbook immediately. He noticed her hand trembling when she grabbed a pen to write something down on her notepad. 

"What? What did I say now?" He didn’t mean to sound so impatient, as though her reaction had been extreme.

She shook her head, clearing her throat. "Nothing."

"Wow, that almost had me fooled.” 

She didn't reply. His forehead furrowed when her hand tightened around the pen until her knuckles became white. He was under the impression her nails were carved into the skin of her palm. It wasn't commensurate with a girl missing her ex, which was his initial assumption. 

His voice was slightly alarmed when he said, “I thought you were cool with him...?"

“Yeah, it’s just... too recent.”

“You’re shaking.”

A quiet sob slipped out of her lips and he froze in place, genuinely startled by that response. Back then, he still didn’t dare to stay around when she burst into tears, but it was more than clear that it wasn't another one of her dramatic reactions to easily solvable situations. There was a feeling of foreboding running through him when the first tear rolled down her cheek.

"Case?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, a semblance of pain twisting her features. Apprehensive, he haphazardly pushed to the side the array of supplies serving as a shield between them on the bed and scooted closer to her. She turned her head to the opposite side and he hesitated for a brief moment—why did he feel so awkward at the idea of comforting her?—before touching her hand. Somehow it seemed too intimate, and Casey must have thought the same because her gaze flicked back to him.

His focus, however, was on snagging the pen from her fingers and carefully opening her hand. He saw the half-moons etched on her palm, marks left by her nails as he predicted, and stared at them for the number of seconds it took him to think of something to say. He didn’t do that kind of stuff; he didn’t stay around for tears or inquire about them; he didn’t offer consolation or allowed himself to touch her. But she needed someone and he didn't mind being that someone at that moment.

“Did he do something to you?” he asked, already considering the idea that Truman might have cheated on her again. When he raised his head, he saw the answer to his question in her eyes.

Derek never believed in second chances; his decision to seek Truman and help him win Casey over was one he regretted the second the other showed up at their house. His actions were selfish and he knew it—it was selfish to start a relationship with Emily when he knew he didn’t have feelings for her; it was selfish to convince himself he _did_ to avoid facing the first signs that he might be growing too attached to Casey; it was selfish to pair her up with someone who had hurt her in the past because it was convenient for him.

“Of course,” he snarled. “Why isn’t that surprising? I fucking _told_ him—”

Her fingers wrapped around his hand abruptly; he didn’t know whether it was simply a reflex or the way she found to silence him. Either way, it worked. He barely even cared about the fact that she was holding his hand when physical contact had always been kept to a minimum between them for a reason. His attention was on the sorrow he saw glistening behind the layer of water in her eyes. 

“It’s not that,” she choked. 

“Then what is it?” 

She averted her eyes to her legs, face contorting into a grimace of pain before she allowed herself to break down. That was when she spilled everything out, frantic and erratic, more broken than he had ever seen her—until now. He couldn’t recall her words even if his life depended on it; it seemed like his brain stopped functioning the moment she said Truman had forced himself on her. Everything else was drowned out by her tears and blinded by the color red flashing behind his eyelids.

When she was done, he was left with the silence, only broken by her occasional stifled sobs and the frightening notion that Truman had hurt her. He felt just as furious and powerless as he felt now, but there was also the first hints of guilt twisting his insides—the guilt of drawing them back to each other after their breakup; of not accompanying them to that party, because he _wanted_ to; of not being there to spare her from living that moment.

He pulled his hand away from hers and rose to his feet to stand in the middle of the room. He could feel his skin warming up from the inside as he ran his hands through his hair. There were so many things he wanted to say to her then, but the only word that left his lips was an aggravated, “What?”

When he whirled around, Casey was pulling her knees to her chest. She hugged her shins and rested her cheek on her knees. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, you should’ve told me when we were in _London_. I’ll _fucking kill him_.”

Casey lifted her head to glance at him, running the back of her hand under her eyes. He had seen her cry countless times before but never saw her as susceptible as in that moment. His anger now battled with the sudden and desperate urge to make her pain go away—he just didn’t know how. It startled him when his first instinct was to wrap his arms around her.

“I didn’t want to think about it,” she said. “The things he said... and the way he was looking at me,” she added, voice faltering as she closed her eyes for a second and shook her head as if to ward off those memories. He clenched his jaw, balling his hands into fists inadvertently. “I want to forget that night.”

Derek let out a deep sigh, sliding one palm across his face before returning to his place on the bed. Her eyes roved to his face for a moment and then dropped to the floor. 

“I— _we_ will never see him again,” she resumed, planting her chin between her knees. “He can’t hurt me anymore.”

“Casey..."

“I’m fine,” she said with a determination that sounded fake to his ears combined with a sniff. “That’s over. I don’t want to talk about him ever again.”

She shifted in her place to hide her legs under her body and grab her notepad; then her eyes started wandering across the bed, clearly looking for something. Derek took hold of the pen he had stolen from her and brought it closer to her face. She grasped the other end of the object, but before she could pull it to herself, he moved his hand to wrap his finger around hers. 

Casey looked at him and, greeted once again by silence and by the faint light in her eyes, he knew she understood that touch meant every word of comfort he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“In case you do..."

There was a hint of surprise in her look as she scanned his face. “You wouldn’t want to stay through more tears,” she half-joked.

“Nah, I can deal with that.”

She offered him a weak smile, one that lightened the load in his heart despite the notion that regardless of his support, she would still have to live with the consequences of Truman’s actions. He finally let go when she glanced at their hands; the usual feeling of awkwardness that would have ensued after that odd moment of closeness being replaced by one of fondness. He knew that one as well, but never allowed himself to acknowledge it before.

He remembered cogitating going after Truman back then. He knew for a fact that he had moved to Vancouver for college, yet he would not only be ignoring Casey’s request but also possibly provoking Truman into sliding back into her life somehow. Little did he know that it would happen anyway. The satisfying difference was that Truman was prowling around _his_ campus now. _So close_. 

“ _Son-of-a-bitch_ ,” Derek growled, back in the present. "Noble of him to blame _you_ for him being a _fucking rapist_.” He turned to her again. “You never owed him anything. You never owe _anyone_ anything, Casey, even if you’re dating them."

She was staring at him, allowing him to peek at her soul with the unwitting vulnerability that forced her open. He thought back to the festival and how close he had been to hurting Truman; to how Casey lied to him, probably too ashamed to tell him the truth; how she must have felt hearing those words.

"I know that," she said, holding his gaze for a moment before lowering her head again. "But it hurt. And it still does and I hate it. And I thought it was just me, I thought... _I_ can deal with this, you know? But now there's someone else and I just... there's nothing I can do."

At least _that_ was something he could relate to. Taking a deep breath, he moved to sit by her side on the bed, unbothered about adding distance between them.

“Case,” he tried in a calmer voice, "you don't have to tell me who it is, but she knows she can go to the police, right? He can’t just be walking around freely."

"I know. But she doesn't want to and... well, honestly, I understand.” She drifted her eyes to his, shrugging languidly. “Look at how long it took me to tell the people I trust and it wasn’t even half as bad. I couldn’t even tell my _mom_.”

“Don’t play it down,” he said. “What he did to you.”

She shook her head. “I’m not playing it down. But I got lucky. And I know he’s the only one to blame but I feel... ashamed. I _shouldn’t_ , but I do. So I know what she’s feeling right now. That’s fucked up, Derek.”

He nodded comprehensively, when in fact, he couldn’t understand the unfairness of it all. “It is.”

“I don’t know what I should do,” she said, lowering her gaze to her hands on her lap and interlocking her fingers. She was applying so much force to the gesture that her knuckles turned white. “She told me to forget about it but I can’t just leave her alone right now.”

Derek swallowed, startled by how naturally he reached out to gently separate her hands and hold them between his own. It seemed like a second chance, an opportunity he didn’t want—or at least not in those circumstances—but accepted, to comfort her the way he should have done the first time. Casey raised her head, her tear-rimmed eyes staring back at him.

“I think she needs time,” he said quietly. His thumbs began to slide up and down the back of her hands in a soothing motion. “And you need it too. Give it a day and maybe you can... text her or something. So she doesn’t feel like she’s being pressured.”

She agreed with her head. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“I know that’s a stupid question but... is she okay?”

“She looked so... broken.” With a sigh, she closed her eyes for a few seconds. “God, if I’d said something... if I’d just listened to you and reported him maybe this wouldn’t have happened—"

“ _Whoa_ , hold on,” he intervened. “This isn’t your fault. _He’s_ the only one to blame here and even if you’d reported him, that wouldn’t have stopped him. He would’ve been kicked out of school and then done it to someone else.”

A tear spilled down her face and she pulled one of her hands away from his to catch it. He swallowed; the sound was unusually loud in the middle of the silence. 

"Look, I—I have no idea what that's like," he began, awkwardly. "How you’re feeling right now. I wish—if I could—if I can help in any way..."

She risked a faint smile. Her free hand found his knee so suddenly and naturally that he stood still for a second; it was a simple touch, just a soft squeeze that translated into a ‘thank you’. 

"You've been doing just that."

"I have?"

She nodded. “Do you remember when I’d text you out of nowhere or appear at your dorm to study when it wasn’t scheduled? And you’d curse me because I couldn't just show up unannounced and 'we weren't friends' but you’d just go along with it because deep down you knew we were?”

“We _weren’t_. Never will be.”

The corners of his mouth quivered up slightly when she rolled her eyes. It was a relief to see her much calmer and more relaxed after going through so much pain. “Well, that was me knowing that you’d be able to get my mind off things when I remembered about them. It used to happen a lot. Now not so much. You just help ease the pain."

His chest felt suddenly compressed with the invisible weight of her words, like hands that clutched his heart and spread warmth through his entire body. He had been a source of comfort for her for longer than he knew. 

Derek scratched the back of his neck. “That's... good," he said, unable to think of anything else to say. It sounded appropriate and she accepted it with a nod and another smile—one that felt more effortless than the others. 

"Yeah." 

Casey breathed in and out a couple of times and suddenly looked at him. She leaned forward before he could take a moment to read her eyes, and threw her arms around his neck to pull him into another hug. Taken by surprise, he hesitated before relaxing his muscles and slinging his arms around her. 

She adjusted her chin on his shoulder and he did the same, catching a whiff of her scent mixed with _his_ that still lingered on his—now hers—jacket. It seemed appropriate when he didn’t know where he started and where she ended; they were a mess of limbs and emotions now. Maybe he hadn’t been able to offer her his arms back then, but the universe conspired to restore the order. She nuzzled his shoulder and he tightened his grip around her instinctively, sinking into her warmth.

At least a minute had gone by before she whispered, “Thank you.” 

Derek pressed his lips against her shoulder, thinking that there was a reason why he had avoided her touch for so many years. There was no way he could have fooled himself for that long about his feelings if he had allowed it to happen before. He barely had time to prepare before he was thrown into reality again as she disentangled herself from him—too soon. His hand lingered on her back as if ready to welcome her into his arms again if necessary.

"Uh... you said you had news," she recalled, using the cuffs of her jacket again to ascertain her face was dry before glancing at him. “Why don't you tell me?"

"Oh." Derek shook his head, knowing there was nothing he could celebrate at that moment. "No, it's fine. It wasn’t that important."

She sighed. "Derek, you never text me to talk about news, so unless they have to do with you dropping out, I want to hear it." 

"Why do you always think I'm dropping out? It's insulting," he said in a fake offended tone that brought a smile to her face, which his lips mirrored immediately. 

"Tell me."

He couldn’t recover the feeling of excitement that had accompanied him from the coach’s office to her dorm, but he reckoned that was what Casey meant when she said he could ease the pain. Maybe talking about random things could distract her from her sorrow, so he nodded. 

"I just came back from a meeting with Coach."

"Right. Why didn't you tell me about captain? I had to learn it from Pete and you wouldn’t even have made it if I hadn’t run into him."

He narrowed his eyes. “Ye of little faith, I set my alarm. And why would you want to know anyway?”

She shrugged. “Well, it’s important to you.”

“So?”

“I might hate hockey, but I support you. Or do you think I go to your games to see people getting beaten up?”

Derek tilted his head to the side, feeling a smile dancing on his lips. “You _read books_ at my games, Casey.”

“I look up every now and then just to make sure you’re not dead.”

He huffed, drifting his eyes to his hand, still on her back; if she had noticed it, it wasn’t bothering her. “I had to keep my grades to be considered,” he said, glancing back at her.

“Oh, _that's_ why you've been actually making an effort." 

“ _Obviously_.” He rolled his eyes, adding an oddly affectionate, “Keeping good grades is for losers like you.”

“Obviously.”

"And Coach _obviously_ chose me."

Her eyes still sparkled with a layer of tears, but she flashed him a warm smile; the absence of surprise on her semblance was quite flattering to him, because it meant she didn’t expect a different outcome. He pictured his father’s face when he told him the news and was absolutely sure he would need a few seconds to absorb them before congratulating him. But Casey’s reaction was so immediate and serene—she was proud of his achievement, even if it didn’t mean a thing to her.

“You deserve it,” she said, adding in a playful tone, “I'd hug you again, but that might be too much for you in a day. So congrats." She gently patted his arm twice.

Derek snorted, strangely aware of the fact that her hand remained on his arm. "Should we put this on the list?"

He almost regretted his words the moment she withdrew her hand and widened her eyes as if he had reminded her of something important. “Glad you mentioned it,” she said, standing up to walk up to her desk, where she had left her backpack, and pulling out two sheets of paper.

“You _printed_ it?!” he asked in the middle of an incredulous chuckle. “When did you have time to do this?”

“This morning,” she said, avoiding his eyes as she sat down on the bed again and handed him the papers. "I rewrote everything, and now we need to sign it," she added, wriggling a pen in the air. “By we, I mean _you_ , of course.”

He cocked an eyebrow, skimming over the letters on the papers. It wasn’t a simple list anymore, it was almost an official document. He wouldn't expect anything less from her. "Isn’t this a little extreme? Do we have to go to the courthouse or something?"

“Just sign it,” she said, placing the pen on his palm when he opened his hand. 

_Mutual Agreement_

_This agreement is hereby entered into by Casey McDonald and Derek Venturi on this date: ____________

_Purpose: To ensure the relationship between the two parties is properly established with rules, which must be respected and followed._

“The _parties_?” he mocked, casting Casey a toying look.

She simply tapped her index finger impatiently against the bottom of the paper, urging him to sign it. 

“I need to read it first,” he argued, drifting his eyes back to the agreement, “I might be signing something that forces me to buy you dinner every night and I don’t have that kind of money."

“ _That’s_ your only reservation?”

“I’d never say no to food.”

With the corner of his eyes, he saw her gaze lingering on his profile, but kept reading.

_The parties hereby agree to the following:_

_A. Respect and comply with the rules set out below:_

_1\. Both parties must be respectful and cordial to one another at all times;_

_2\. Physical contact will be permitted in public, provided that it is decorous;_

“What the hell is decorous?”

“ _Appropriate_ , Derek,” she explained with a sigh. "And you're mispronouncing it."

She didn’t seem to find his touches inappropriate the previous night, but he kept his thoughts to himself considering the situation and the fact that it was satisfying enough to know that she had been so affected by their intimacy that she felt the need to prevent it from happening again.

_3\. Kissing will only be permitted in expressly necessary situations, such as:_

_3.1. In the presence of the exes of both parties;_

_3.2. At eventual parties and/or gatherings in which it feels necessary, be it in the context of conversations or social expectations, to evolve physical contact into kissing._

“I might need a dictionary.”

Casey sighed again, peering over his shoulder to find out which rule he was referring to, and he moved his index finger to the exact section. Her breath was warm against his neck and he praised his own self-control when he managed to stay still as she said, “Kiss me when there are people around.” She was simply answering him, but his mind clung to her first two words. “ _If_ necessary.” 

“Necessity is relative.”

She sighed in slight annoyance, but probably decided it was best to not entertain him. 

_4\. French kissing is EXPRESSLY PROHIBITED._

He hummed sarcastically, remembering quite well the last time _she_ broke that rule. “Buzzkill,” he murmured under his breath, but she must have heard him, for she steered back rather quickly.

_5\. Both parties must consult with each other before making plans and decisions that involve them;_

_6\. Both parties are allowed to engage in casual dating but must act discreetly._

Derek almost rolled his eyes; he had a feeling she wouldn’t quit trying to encourage him to go out and date even if he told her directly he didn’t have any intention to do so. At times like those he wished he could simply say the words stuck in the back of his throat, just summon up the courage to look her in the eyes and tell her. 

But he was still roaming around the territory of uncertainty, completely blind, and even if he was absolutely positive of what she felt, he knew it wasn’t the right time. She wasn’t ready. Their conversation in the car was a reminder that he needed to tread that path carefully. 

_B. If one of the parties decides to enter a relationship with another person, the end of this contract is immediately declared._

_C. All information detailed here shall be treated as confidential._

_The undersigned agree to the terms of this agreement._

“Well, that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever read,” he stated, removing the cap of the pen to scribble something under Section C.

“What are you doing?” Casey chided, shifting closer to him again. “Der- _ek_! You’re ruining it!”

He retrieved his hand to allow her to read his new addition. ‘ _D. Hugs are limited to 1 a day'_ was now written in his messy handwriting. He looked at Casey and saw her rolling her eyes with the shadow of a smile dancing on her lips.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Funny you say that when you’re the one who wrote a whole bible to make sure I’m..." he paused, looking for a specific word on the paper, “ _decorous_.” 

“I don’t think that’s even possible,” she quipped. "And you're still mispronouncing it."

He smirked, signing both papers before handing one to Casey. She raised to her feet again to place it inside a binder she had in her drawer. Derek began to play with the cap of the pen he was still holding, putting it on only to remove it in an infinite loop. He could feel the air changing around them once again now that they weren’t discussing banal subjects; that burdensome aura creeping in like a silent grey cloud. 

Casey closed her drawer and turned around, laying back against it. Her eyes were fixed on the wall, suddenly lost. He was overcome with the urge to say what he should have said a year ago, when she confided in him the first time; something he always thought was reserved for people who didn’t know what else to say, and while that _was_ true in his case, it also meant more than anything else he could have said. 

“I’m sorry.”

She flicked her eyes to him, first expressionless, as though she hadn’t heard him; then, she blinked as the words assimilated in her brain, and her semblance was suddenly a mixture of surprise and melancholy. “Me too.”

Her words prodded at his heart with another reminder that he was powerless. His first realization was that he didn’t have cold blood; the mere thought of having to wait for an opportune moment to find Truman was infuriating enough to enhance his urge to kill him. But he had just managed to calm her down and if he was certain of anything, it was that she needed a distraction—and if he was supposed to control himself, he would need one too.

That was how they ended up sitting side by side on her bed, watching a movie with a title he couldn’t even remember, but which was doing a good job at making her laugh. He relished her warmth and the way she leaned into him unconsciously, so close that he eventually put one arm around her shoulders. She didn’t flinch. It was enough to bring him a coveted feeling of peace and serenity, a pleasant sensation of wishing to live in that moment for a while longer.

When her roommates arrived—and Sarah surprisingly greeted him without throwing a single insult his way,—he was almost ready to be asked to leave, but when Casey didn’t say a thing and neither Ivy nor Sarah complained about his presence, he remained in his place. 

Despite knowing both girls and having a good relationship with Ivy, Derek had never spent more than a couple of minutes with them and didn’t know how to insert himself in their conversation when Ivy began to tell Casey about someone named Omar. Or maybe it was Olive. He wasn’t paying attention. But at some point, Sarah complained of being hungry and he offered himself to order food for them, which evoked a suspicious look from her but ended with him calling a nearby Thai restaurant.

For the first ten minutes after sitting on the floor and each getting their own orders, Derek simply listened to the girls chatting in silence and rejoiced in the fact that Casey seemed much better than before. But somehow, in between Ivy bringing up a concert she wanted to see in August and Casey saying she was done with concerts for a while, he found out he and Sarah had similar taste in music and the same favorite band.

“Shut up, I can’t believe you’re going to ruin music for me,” Sarah said, but there wasn’t an ounce of bitterness in her tone. She was actually smiling. “ _Or_ that you have good taste.”

"Should've been clear," he replied with his mouth full, gesturing with his chin towards Casey. He didn't even bother to check to see if she was blushing; Ivy's giggle and Sarah's playful smile were the confirmation he needed. 

"Okay, that's fair," Sarah decided. "You're less annoying now. Like one percent." 

“Oh, God, they’re going to be best friends now,” Ivy mocked, which led them to the weirdest conversation he had ever had, yet also one of the most surprising. He thought it was the feeling of being accepted. He didn’t particularly care about what Sarah thought of him, but being integrated into Casey’s social circle was something _he_ apparently cared about. 

But regardless of the strangely entertaining day or its effectiveness in pushing his thoughts about Truman to the back of his skull, he had to leave when nighttime came. Sarah had already left and while he knew that Ivy would keep her company, the thought of not being around when she needed him the most was upsetting.

“Thank you for staying,” she said the moment they stepped out onto the hall, closing the door after her. There was a different glow in her eyes when she raised them to his. “And sorry for kind of ruining today for you.”

“ _Case_.”

“Well, you were supposed to be celebrating. I know it probably didn't sound like it when you told me but I’m really excited."

His eyes softened over her face. "I know you are."

"I’m proud of you.”

Derek raised his hand to the back of his neck, scratching it lightly as he tried to disguise his awkwardness. He had the conviction that he would never be able to act differently under her gaze and the affection in her words. “Thanks.”

She gave him a smile, somewhat between contrite and amused, and stepped forward to slip her arms around his torso. It wasn’t just the fact that it was the second time she reached out for him, but the spontaneity with which she did it both times, as though it had always been a part of their relationship. He wouldn’t mind if it was. 

“You’re breaking section D,” he reminded her in a playful tone as his own arms embraced her tightly against his chest like they belonged there. He pressed his mouth against the crown of her head.

“It's not like you care about breaking rules.”

“You know me so well.”

She let out a light chuckle and let him go—again, too soon—and he didn’t have another choice but to finally go when she wished him goodnight and returned to her dorm. He walked down the hall feeling exceptionally lighter, her warmth penetrating his skin and spreading across his body as he told himself he wouldn’t act irrationally. 

If there was nothing else at stake, he would simply find Truman and fulfill his promise to break him into tiny pieces. But fighting on campus was not only prohibited, as it was punished with expelling and even jail if found necessary. He couldn’t risk leaving Casey completely alone. 

Checking the time on his phone screen, Derek stopped in his tracks and then moved to lean against a wall to scroll through his contacts. He was never one to confide in people _or_ ask for help, but despite having Casey’s confirmation that he was helping her, the fact that he couldn’t act against Truman in any way made him feel worthless. For the first time, he felt completely lost.

“Are you sure you dialed the right number?” was Emily’s greeting when she answered his call, combined with a chuckle. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I... need your help,” he said, wincing at the last word.

Probably sensing the seriousness in his voice, Emily sounded worried when she asked, “Is everything okay? Is it Casey?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“Oh, no,” she said, alarmed. “What happened?”

“She told me French hurt someone." He sighed, shaking his head at the empty quad he was facing now. He clenched his jaw, reliving that same morning in his mind. “A girl. And she won’t tell me _exactly_ what happened, but it’s pretty obvious.”

He heard Emily drawing a sharp breath on the other end of the line and gave her a few seconds to recover and answer him with a shocked, “Oh, my God.” He also recognized Sam’s voice filled with concern in the background asking what was happening, but Emily didn’t reply.

“Emily, I don’t know what to do. I managed to calm her down, but she’s feeling like shit.”

“Yes,” she whispered, voice sounding stricken. “God, I can only imagine how she’s feeling right now. Derek, this has gone too far, he needs to pay for what he did.”

“ _Don’t you think I fucking know it_?!,” he snapped, aware of the fact that she wasn’t to blame for the situation, but unable to refrain himself. “If it was up to me he’d be dead right now. But I can’t do anything for her and now she's feeling guilty for what happened and this is fucking with her head, do you understand?” 

“Yes, Derek,” she said placatingly. “I do. Look... this won't be easy. She's gone through this once already and now it's all coming back. We have to work together here. We can't put too much pressure, so if she asks you not to talk about it, don't push."

"Okay."

"It’s a good thing you called me. I just need some time to put myself together and think about what I can do to help. But I’ll call her soon, okay?” she promised. “And you, Derek... don’t leave her side.” 

“No. But I..." He let out another sigh, opening his eyes to the starless night sky. “I don’t know if what I’m doing is enough.”

"It's always gonna seem like it isn't. But just keep doing what you're doing, she needs you more than ever," she said softly. "You have to be calm right now, don’t go around doing things that can get you in trouble.”

He closed his eyes. “I know.”

“Can you promise me that?”

“Whatever.”

“ _Derek_.”

He huffed. “ _Fine_.”

***

He kept his promise for a day. 

Needless to say, he spent another night wide awake, staring at the ceiling of his room and hearing Scott and Tyler battle to see who snored the loudest. Derek placed his pillow tightly against his face and ears, but when he blocked out the inhumane sounds his roommates made, his loud thoughts were the only things he could hear. 

There was a part of him that, while knowing it wouldn’t matter, wondered if he knew Truman’s victim. His doings were twisted and sickening in any way, but he couldn’t stop visualizing familiar faces in his mind. Eventually, all he could see was Casey’s face and suddenly he was overwhelmed by anger again. 

When morning came, he left his dorm and hoped he didn’t cross paths with Truman, which fortunately worked. He knew it was early when he knocked at Casey’s door, but since Sarah had left before him the previous day and Ivy was a heavy sleeper, he reckoned there wouldn’t be a problem. 

Casey was wrapped in her robe when she opened the door, hair pulled back in a messy bun and eyes slightly puffy. He was still deciding whether it was due to sleep or crying when she frowned. 

“You need to sleep,” she pointed out.

“Good morning to you too,” he quipped, stretching his hand to offer her the tea he had bought minutes before along with his two cups of coffee.

“Thanks.” She grabbed the cup and took a sip before laying her eyes on him again. “Are you drinking coffee again?” 

“Officially since yesterday.”

She shook her head, as if ready to reproach him, but simply pulled her door open a little wider and stepped aside for him to enter. “Ivy left early with Owen,” she explained when he hesitated. 

Derek stepped into the room and she promptly closed the door, moving to sit on the couch while he threw himself on her bed to lay on his back. 

“Derek, I just made the bed.” She probably meant it as a complaint, but it sounded like a soft reminder that granted him a resigned smile when he propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her. 

“You can make it again, how cool is that?”

Casey rolled her eyes and continued to drink her tea in silence. He fell back onto the mattress, folded his hands under his head and crossed his ankles, taking a deep breath before relaxing his muscles. The coffee had given him an extra boost of energy but his body was aware of his tiredness nonetheless. He closed his eyes for a moment; the silence usually bothered him when he was in the company of other people, the awkwardness pressing him to find a subject to fill it in in a matter of seconds. Yet with her, it was more of a peaceful thing; he felt like they could be locked in a room together without saying a word, simply breathing the same air, and he would feel comfortable. At home.

“You don’t have to feel like you have to stick around because of what happened,” she said quietly after a few minutes. “Or because of what I said.”

He opened his eyes and glanced at her. “Don't flatter yourself, no one else was awake this early," he said playfully, to which Casey smiled, taking a final swig of her tea.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I can't entertain you," she countered. "I have two exams this week and I have to study." 

He rolled his eyes, certain that she had already been studying for those exams at least a month prior to their dates. He had a feeling it was also a way to cope with everything that was happening in her life. Whenever she felt control slipping from her hands, she found a way to regain it, and it usually translated into studying.

"Of course you do."

The truth was that he had exams of his own to study for, but he wouldn't sacrifice his weekend for them. Instead, he found himself sacrificing it for _her_ by reading aloud an infinite slew of questions she had written down as potential questions in her exams. He found out, too late, that there were exactly one hundred and seven of them—and she got all of them right, as usual. At least it gave him an excuse to stare at her profile every time she squeezed her eyes shut and tilted her head back as if trying to search through her brain for the right answer—it was too adorable. 

“ _Please_ say you’re done,” he begged dramatically, placing her laptop aside on her bed as she worked right next to him, highlighting different words in her textbook while mouthing them like she was trying to memorize everything. 

“Not even close.”

He groaned, moving his neck from side to side to stretch it and letting an involuntary yawn escape his lips. It was probably the tenth time it happened. The effect of the caffeine was beginning to wear off and he was significantly more tired than before.

Casey stopped her work to look up at him. “Seriously, Derek,” she said gently, “you should get some sleep. Just lay down for a while, I’ll be quiet.”

He would gladly accept the offer if it wasn’t for the fact that he didn’t want to leave her alone to her thoughts. He shook his head, but another yawn interrupted his verbal answer and Casey arched her eyebrows in that just-admit-I’m-right kind of look that irked him—not really. But it made him roll his eyes. 

“Okay,” he complied, standing up to grab her laptop and a stack of unopened textbooks beside her to take them to her desk.

“What are you doing?”

“Remember that thing you told me some time ago?” he said, making his way back to the bed to take the textbook she was using. But when his fingers took hold of it, she clutched her hands tighter around its edges, raising her eyes to his with a defiant expression. “When I couldn't sleep? You said I needed to take breaks, and I’m pretty sure _you_ need one right now. So if I’m sleeping, so are you.”

“I don’t need to sleep.”

“Yes, you do.”

She didn’t reply, but the way her hands loosened around the book and allowed him to grab it without resistance was telling enough. He heard her sigh as he placed the book on top of the desk with the others and whirled around to see her stretching her arms over her head. Casting a lighthearted victory smile at her, he started motioning to move towards the couch but stopped when she intervened. 

“Hey.”

“What?”

Casey flicked her eyes to the side as though pondering about something, but he noticed a slight flush creeping up her face. “It’s just going to be weird if... I mean, when Ivy and Sarah come back... and they see you sleeping on the couch instead of..." Her gaze fell on her bed.

The edges of his lips twitched up on their own. He did feel bad for reveling in her embarrassment, especially when she touched her cheek with the back of her hand, but her suggestion was genuinely unexpected. “You want me to sleep in your bed? With _you_?”

“Don’t make it sound so... weird.”

“I’m just saying you were totally against the idea in Ottawa.”

“I know.”

Derek waited for more words to follow, but nothing else came out of her mouth as she stared at anything in the room but him. He could point out the fact that she was breaking a rule of her own agreement by establishing unnecessary physical contact, but he wouldn’t risk losing what the universe was presenting him now for the chance to tease her. He also didn’t dare to acknowledge his juvenile excitement while he marched to the bed and she raised her hand to her bun, shaking her head to let her hair fall on her shoulders. He was always mesmerized by how effortlessly beautiful she looked doing something as banal as that. 

Wordlessly, they both laid on their backs, which, due to the minimal size of the bed, pressed their sides together and put Derek at risk of falling off of it. “That looks _very_ natural,” he jeered, turning his head to her. Casey glanced at him with raised eyebrows. “It’s not gonna work.”

She sighed quietly, rolling on her side and moving back to allow him to shift closer to the center of the bed. Her back was practically pressed against the wall now in a clear attempt to add distance between them.

“Come closer,” he said. 

She looked at him; a faint blush started to reach her cheeks, but she complied. Her breath ghosted over the crook of his neck now.

“Lift your head.”

“Why?”

“So it doesn’t look like you’re scared of catching measles from me.”

She groaned under her breath, but obeyed. He stretched his arm under her head and she utterly avoided his eyes as she rested her cheek on his chest. He could feel her hair spread all over his arm, as well as her chest rising and falling rhythmically against his side. Her hand found his chest and he closed his eyes to rejoice in the pleasant feeling of having her so close. When her body finally relaxed, he bent the arm that was under her to gingerly rake his fingers through her hair, from the roots to its tips. Her hand crumpled the fabric of his shirt in response, but fell flat against his chest again a moment after. 

He had woken up with her close to him more times than it was acceptable for two people who weren’t dating, but there was still a slight feeling of awkwardness associated with what they were doing now; he fathomed it was the fact that this was planned. But even so, he couldn’t shake the idea that it was supposed to be that way: her warmth spreading throughout his body, her cheek pressed against his heart and his fingers gently threading through her hair until he lost touch with reality.

He woke up several hours later, for the natural morning light that was coming through the windows before had given way to a faint golden beam of light. He dipped his chin to confirm that the weight pressing his chest was still Casey and felt his lips curving up on their own volition at the sight of her sleeping peacefully. His free hand rose up to cover hers near his stomach.

“Are you our new roommate now or something?” Sarah’s voice startled him, and he turned his head to the side to see her looking up from her laptop on her bed. “I didn’t sign up for this shit.”

“You look lovely today,” he quipped.

She rolled her eyes, oddly greener without the extra layer of eyeliner under them. Her gaze fell on Casey for a moment, and then back on him. He didn’t know whether it was the fact that she didn’t have her heavy makeup on or not, but her semblance was much softer when she asked him quietly, “Is something going on with her?”

“Why?”

Sarah narrowed her eyes as if suspecting his obliviousness to the subject, but didn’t mention it. “She seemed a little... sad yesterday. Ivy said she's pretty sure she was crying at night.”

Derek sighed, averting his eyes to the wall behind her. “She’s just... dealing with something right now.”

Sarah shifted in her bed to accommodate herself against the wall and scanned his face for a while. “I still trust you with one eye open. But you’re good to her.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips again. It was oddly satisfying to hear it, but equally funny to hear it from _Sarah_. “Is it killing you to say this?”

“I can taste vomit in my mouth.”

“Graceful.”

Sarah’s semblance twisted into seriousness, reflecting on his. “Is there something I can do to help?” 

“Yeah, actually. Don’t let her leave the dorm by herself. I’ll come by and walk her to her classes whenever I can, but sometimes our schedules don’t match.”

Sarah frowned, placing her laptop aside to fully direct her attention towards him. Her body bent forward slightly. “Is there some creep following her around or something?”

“Or something.”

Concern clouded her features and her eyes went to Casey again before drifting back to his. “Wait, is it her ex again?”

He knitted his eyebrows. “You know about him?”

“She told me he was kind of bugging her, back when he’d just transferred. You know, trying to talk to her in class, texting her and all that,” she said, gesturing with her hands as though he was already aware of those facts. His stomach dropped to his feet and he was absolutely sure his expression denoted both his incredulity and anger but Sarah must not have noticed it for she continued to speak. “I told her to tell him off, I even offered to do it myself but she said she’d take care of it. After some time she said he’d stopped. But if he’s doing it again, she has to tell someone. This can actually be dangerous, Derek.”

He almost let out a humorless laugh but it was replaced by the clenching of his jaw. “Leave it to me. But for now, if you could just help me out with this.”

“Yeah, of course,” she promptly agreed. “And just in case you need someone to lure him outside the campus and help you beat the shit out of his ugly ass, just say the word.”

“Don’t go near him,” he said with gravitas, to which Sarah lifted an eyebrow defiantly but softened her expression once she comprehended the earnestness of his request. “Be careful. If you know any girl who knows him, tell them to stay away too.”

There was a glint of apprehension in her eyes as she nodded and jerked back, almost as if she knew what Truman had done. “Okay.”

Suddenly the rhythm of Casey’s breathing shifted and Derek ended the subject, knowing she was about to wake up. In a couple of seconds, she fluttered her eyes open and, for the first time in his life he was grateful for Sarah’s presence because, by the way Casey’s body froze the moment she realized she was still clinging to him, he knew that she would have moved away if they were the only ones in the room. 

Still, he expected her to subtly disentangle herself from him as Sarah—thankfully—started a conversation, but it never happened. She simply adjusted her cheek on his chest and he stopped counting seconds in his head when it was clear that she wouldn’t move.

Sunday went by in a blur, and he had been able to forget Truman up until the next day, when he was inopportunely reminded of him. He was writing a paper in his dorm in between classes when his phone buzzed with a new message. He grabbed it to see it was from Pete. 

_**Pete:** Hey are you in class? _

_**Derek:** no, why? _

_**Pete:** I need to ask you something. Did Casey tell you what happened on Saturday? _

He bent forward on his chair, holding his phone tighter as he stared at its screen with uneasiness. 

_**Derek:** wdym? _

The three dots on the bubble speech on his screen indicated that Pete was typing again, but this time it wouldn’t disappear. The waiting began to inflict an unpleasant feeling of anxiety in him, because the only thing in his mind now was the fact that Casey hadn’t left her dorm on Saturday, except during the morning. When she learned about what Truman had done. 

_**Pete:** I saw her talking to Truman. She slapped him but she wouldn't tell me what happened. She was crying and looked super upset_

A searing feeling of furor coursed through his body, as well as an insistent glimmer of fear. Casey hadn’t mentioned meeting Truman that morning, which only led him to the obvious conclusion that he was harassing her again. 

_**Pete:** I wanted to tell you when we met later but I wasn’t sure I should and I kinda thought she'd tell you _

_**Pete:** But I'm worried and I thought you should know just in case _

_**Pete:** Derek??? _

_**Pete:** DON’T GO FUCKING DO ANYTHING YOU SHOULDN’T _

Shutting off his phone, Derek raised his eyes to the wall across his dorm with a deadly look that he wished to direct at Truman. His jaw was so taut he wondered if his teeth could break with the force he was applying to it. Even if he tried to ignore the fact that Truman had once again disrespected Casey’s warning to stay away from her, he knew that couldn’t be the reason for her reaction. She _never_ used violence.

And neither did he, but it was never late to try new things. 

He managed to steady his breathing and his trembling hands while he texted his teammate Logan, who shared a class with Truman. Luckily, he found out that same class was taking place at that exact moment and would end in fifteen minutes, which gave him enough time to march to the building Logan had pointed him towards and wait for Truman. 

He was still considering the possible consequences of being caught fighting on campus, so he knew he had to be as quick and as subtle as possible, which he wasn’t sure he could do when he could feel his rage growing and boiling in his veins by the second. It was difficult enough to not barge into his class and punch him in front of a crowd of students. 

His heart started pounding in his chest when he saw the first students leaving the building and narrowed his eyes to spot his target. Truman didn’t even notice him, since he was accompanied by a short red-haired girl, and Derek followed them silently until they both said their goodbyes and went separate ways. 

He couldn’t believe his luck when Truman took a shortcut through two buildings that led to his residence, completely deserted. His hands were already balled into fists when he approached the man, his eyes fixed on the back of his head as though they could explode it. 

“So glad I ran into you,” Derek said, unable to disguise the repulsion in his voice. 

Truman halted, whirling around in a slow movement to face him, a derisive smirk on his lips. "Of course she told you," he said, rolling his eyes and removing the strap of his backpack from his shoulder to let it fall to the ground. "Did you come to defend her honor? Derek in rescue!" he sneered. 

Derek gritted his teeth, feeling his entire body shaking with the overwhelming hatred he felt for that man. "No, I came to do what I should've done the moment I saw you in London."

"And what's that?" he asked, although he rolled up the sleeves of his jacket in preparation for the impending fight. 

Derek flexed his fingers and closed his right hand into a firm fist, taking a final step towards Truman before swinging his arm back and hitting him on the face in a sudden movement. The moment his knuckles connected to Truman’s nose, he heard something crack and a grunt that came out of both their mouths— _holy shit, it hurt more than he expected._

Repressing the urge to cradle his hand, he found comfort in the fact that there was already blood coming out of Truman’s nose. He shook his right hand, staring back at Truman’s lethal eyes, filled with the exasperation he reckoned was overshadowing his own eyes. 

Truman tried to swing at Derek and when he tried to dodge it, he took the punch on his left shoulder with a groan. Derek staggered back, only to march towards Truman again and throw another punch; but the other blocked the blow and countered with a painful jab to his right cheek. _Holy fucking shit_. Derek stumbled until his back found a wall, but his vision was partially blurred and his eyes were suddenly watering. 

It gave Truman time to grab his collar and pull him forward only to shove him aggressively against the wall again, to which Derek groaned furiously and started throwing blind punches, until one of them hit Truman’s stomach and made him jerk away from him. As Derek’s vision went back to normal, he saw the other doubled over, completely breathless. 

Relentless, Derek advanced forward and punched Truman in the jaw, knocking him down. Truman fell on his back, cradling his face, now covered in blood. It was horrifically satisfying, so much that Derek couldn’t even feel the pain that was crushing him only seconds ago. His breathing was unstable and his heart was still pounding savagely inside his chest, and while the urge to continue to punch Truman until he was unconscious persisted, he simply bent down and stared at him in the eyes. 

"If you so much as try to talk to Casey again, I swear to God I’ll kill you. And think before you try to tell someone about this, ‘cause I’ll make sure they know you’re a fucking rapist."

Truman spat blood on the ground, holding his gaze with fury. Derek turned around and finally held his right hand inside his left one, wincing at the pain that returned in a split second. He felt avenged, but somehow his anger had expanded. He walked away in fast steps, staring at the ground as he made his way to his dorm.

"Holy shit, what happened to you?" It was Sarah’s voice. He looked up to see her walking towards him, a disconcerted look on her face. "Were you in a fight?"

"Not now, Sarah," he barked without interrupting his stride. 

Ignoring the few inquisitive and curious looks that were thrown at him as he rushed to his building, Derek finally allowed himself to fully comprehend what he had done. His eyes roved to his bruised hand, coated in Truman’s blood, and he made a direct beeline for the restroom to wash it. As the cold water touched his knuckles, he looked up to inspect his reflection in the mirror. There was a thin layer of blood next to his cheek and a faint red deformed circle around his right cheekbone, which he was sure would become purple and swell up soon. 

Cursing under his breath, he ruminated on the possibility of having been too careless. Now that his mind was clearer, he considered that his emotions had prevailed over reason and he should have consulted Casey before acting on his instincts. Yet when he recalled Truman’s expression after being hit and tackled to the ground, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. 

He was received with curious questions from Scott when he barged into his dorm, still slightly unhinged and with a growing bruise on his face, but ignored them all. His roommate resumed his studying from his place at their desk, but kept throwing puzzled looks at him. 

Derek flopped down on his bed with a sigh and noticed his phone was still resting on his mattress in the same position he had left it before storming off to his mission. Using his left hand, he checked the abundance of messages he had received in those meager minutes he had been away—half of them were from a worried Pete after not getting a reply. He answered them to prevent his friend from visiting his dorm—which he threatened to do in one of the messages—but didn't tell him the truth. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone.

There were also a couple of messages from Marti asking him about his day and telling him about hers, as usual—he felt considerably calmer as he texted her back concealing the real events of his day. When he scrolled down, he noticed Sam had also messaged him.

_**Sam:** hey man, is everything ok with case? _

_**Sam:** i know you were talking about her with em and shes acting all weird _

_**Sam:** also she just called her and i think shes crying in the bedroom?? wtf is going on?? _

Derek sighed, flexing his right hand unintentionally and hissing quietly at the pain that afflicted him. He could also feel the beginning of a headache looming, along with a riling and constant thud almost completely concentrated on his right cheek. 

_**Derek:** french_

_**Derek:** i just punched him and my hand hurts like hell but i feel fucking good _

Sam replied a few seconds later. 

_**Sam:** HOLY FUCKING SHIT WHAT _

_**Sam:** FUCK IT HE DESERVES IT _

Derek nodded to himself; even if his reaction had been unwise, he couldn’t deny that he wouldn’t have acted differently. Sam began to type again but that was when he heard light knocks on his door. Sitting up on the bed, he shared a silent look with Scott, who rolled his eyes and stood up to open the door. Derek was almost sure it was Pete, so he shut off his phone and sighed in annoyance. 

“Hey,” Scott said hesitantly from the door. “I’ll... use the bathroom.”

The moment his roommate stepped out of the dorm, however, Derek saw Casey entering and closing the door after him. He placed his phone on his bed with its screen pressed against the mattress, feeling like a child disobeying their parents and trying to hide their mischief. He noticed her apprehension the moment she set her eyes on him, drawing to a halt. By the way her eyes widened significantly as she assessed his face, he presumed his bruise had become more visible. 

“What the hell did you do?” she asked, voice marred with concern while she approached the bed and took a seat by his side. “God, you’re hurt!”

Her hand grabbed his chin to angle it to the side, granting her eyes a good view of his damage. Derek moved his head again to look at her, assuring, “I’m fine.” 

She let her hand drop to her lap and disagreed with a sway of her head. “You don’t _look_ fine. Sarah just told me she ran into you and that you looked really bad, but I didn’t think—”

“I never look bad,” he quipped, but grimaced when he tried to place his hand on the bed for support only to be reminded that his shoulder was also hurt. “Fuck!” he groaned, raising his hand to carefully touch his shoulder. 

“Derek,” she said, and although he knew she meant it as a reproach, her voice sounded mellow. 

Her gaze roved to his right hand and she reached out to gently hold it and draw it closer to her for examination. He let his fingers rest comfortably on her wrist, raising his eyes to her face. 

“You can’t fight on campus,” she said, letting her fingertips ghost over his knuckles. The gentleness in her touch made him wince, but she must have interpreted it as a reaction to pain, for she stopped it and glanced up at him.

“I know.” 

She scanned his face for a moment, eyes still glistening with concern, but now joined by confusion. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure, you just go around beating people, I guess.”

He shrugged by the force of habit and cursed under his breath when a twinge of pain struck his shoulder. “I guess.”

“Der- _ek_.”

He exhaled deeply, averting his eyes. “Truman,” he muttered bitterly; her fingers tightened around his wrist, bringing his attention back to the fact that she was still holding his hand in the air. 

“Derek.” It was much softer this time. 

He fixed his gaze on her again, subtly moving his fingers to brush the inside of her wrist. He was never good with discerning emotions, but her eyes glowed with clear affection. He would love to be constantly at the receiving end of that look, regardless of how uneasy it made him feel. 

“You didn’t tell me he went after you again,” he explained. “Pete said you hit him and you don’t exactly go for violence, so I figured he’d done something to you.” 

She shied away from his eyes with a despondent expression. “He didn’t. Well, not... in _that_ way.”

“In _what_ way, then?”

“He just said some things.”

“About what?”

“It doesn’t really matter.”

“I’d like to know why I hit the guy.”

She looked up at him with arched eyebrows. “Shouldn’t you have thought about it before actually hitting him?”

“He’s got such a punchable face.”

She gave in to a tiny smile, but it vanished as soon as she lowered her head again. He waited persistently with his eyes glued to her face, watching every emotion that crossed it while she thought about her answer. “He mentioned Simon.”

“ _Simon_?”

Casey took a deep breath, finally taking notice of her hand still holding his. She let it go as gingerly as possible and began, “He said there was a reason why we didn’t come out to our parents. That we were waiting for Simon to be old enough to... to know his actual siblings were...” She paused for a few seconds, closing her eyes with a grimace. “Sleeping together... to put it lightly.”

He froze in place, both not to scare her with any sudden movements and to _keep_ himself from doing said movements. Casey eyed him warily, her features clouded with shame. He wished he could reverse time and punch Truman until he ceased to exist now, a sentiment that must have been transparent in his expression, since she shook her head and asked, "Please, don’t go after him again, Derek." 

He sighed, tilting his chin up to glance at the ceiling. “I won’t. I don’t think he’s going after you again either.”

“Why?”

“Don’t worry about that. But, Case,” he began against his will, trying to keep his voice low and calm, “if you want to stop... then let’s stop.”

It took him an unmitigated effort to say those words aloud, because if it was up to him, he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t give up on feeling the texture of her skin under his or adoring how responsive she was to his touches; he wouldn’t give up on her kisses and her laugh and even her annoying nerdiness. 

It wasn’t just the good things; he wanted her worst. He wanted the tears and the fears and the anxiety attacks and the endless conversations that turned into lectures. They were a part of who she was. Casey was flawed, but then so was he. She always accepted him; she accepted his crudeness, his occasional coldness, his teasing and his arrogance. She never denied him. And he couldn’t deny her either, even if her wish meant destroying his plan.

He felt a pang of anguish inside, almost dreading the action of turning to look at her. He hadn’t planned for an occasion in which he would have to conform to concealing what he felt—he had done it for far too long before. Casey had her eyes on the floor, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip. 

“Pete and Will know,” she said, risking a glance at him. 

“Know what?”

“That you’re my step-brother.”

He grimaced at the last word, but blinked in puzzlement when her sentence resonated with him. “What?”

“You kind of told Will.”

“I’m fairly fucking sure I didn’t.”

She tilted her head to the side, nodding. “Yeah, you did. But I can’t hold it against you, because apparently you were wasted.”

Knitting his eyebrows together, he rummaged around his brain for that supposed memory, only to find nothing. “I can’t fucking believe it. And he was just walking around pretending not to know a fucking thing?”

“Apparently,” she confirmed with a humorless smile. “And they’re fine with it." 

“Of course they are, how could people not expect you to fall hopelessly in love with me when I’m this hot?”

Casey gasped in lighthearted outrage, but a light shade of pink tinged her ivory skin. A smile crept upon his lips; he was hit by a sudden urge to plant a kiss on her mouth.

“Will you ever let this go?”

“Nope. It’ll be written on my gravestone. I’ll give Marti all the instructions.”

She rolled her eyes, rising to cross the room towards his minifridge. He was specifically aware of the fact that she hadn't answered his tacit question, but rather introduced a new subject. He gave her the option to end their relationship, yet she didn't take it.

“You know what?” she said, suddenly confident as she grabbed a water bottle and returned to her place beside him on the bed. 

He cocked his eyebrows in a silent question, but she held his chin and turned his face to the opposite side again, gently pressing the bottle against his bruised cheekbone. He hissed with the pain that hit him, but sighed when the cold object alleviated his discomfort. 

“You keep bringing this up to embarrass me,” she continued, “when you said the same thing about me.”

“Yeah. And I own up to it.”

Derek felt her grip on his chin loosen up until she withdrew her hand altogether, but couldn’t move his head to watch her reaction. He pictured her flustered, however, and smirked to himself. 

“Um... you shouldn’t have done it,” she uttered a moment later, clearing her throat. “You could’ve gotten in real trouble for something like that. But... thank you."

The genuineness and the softness in her voice seemed to push his heart down to his feet. He could see her scanning his face with the corner of his eyes as he searched his brain for something to say. 

“I’d say anytime, but _holy fuck_ , everything hurts.”

It made her chuckle, and he thought that it was worth every single part of his body hurting. 

“I’ll find you something for the pain after I’m done here,” she said, gently turning the bottle over his cheek. “Derek?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you talk to Emily?”

“Why?”

“She called me earlier.”

He sighed, feeling weird for having that conversation without being able to look into her eyes. “I thought she might know how to... talk to you. Better than I could.”

“You know how to talk to me just fine,” she assured him, which made his chest feel warmer. “But thank you.”

“You already said that,” he mentioned, seeing her nod in agreement.

“Yeah. I have a lot of things to be thankful for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you SO much for the comments/kudos ❤️ I appreciate all of you so much and it's always a pleasure to read your theories and your feelings about each chapter. I hope you enjoyed this one!
> 
> It's been a little harder for me to focus on writing/proofreading lately, so it might take me a little longer than usual to post from now on. I wanted to be more consistent but I've come to realize that it's nearly impossible at this moment, since I'm balancing work and study. I'm not abandoning this story, nor do I intend to, so don't give up on me, please 🙈
> 
> I hope you're all well and safe! Have a lovely day (and once again, thank you for the support) ❤️


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